Hortlak's Strife - Reclamation of S09
by bigredstapler
Summary: A shattered soul moves from one war to another.
1. Prologue

**Chapter 0**

_Out of the sterile rooms and hallway. A brief moment under the summer moon. A descent into the darkness of the back of a truck. Stench of anaesthesia replaced with the nostalgic scent of plastic and gunpowder. Time to repay my debt._

_City lights gave way to the starry sky. Five hours to feel the wind against my cheek. Five hours to forget I am transitioning from one prison into another._

_The dust is familiar but the wind which carries it is not. The white-tipped mountains on the horizon are strange to me._

The false limbs ached. It must be watching again. Every time I drifted out of consciousness within the confines of this cramped rocking truck, I found these red eyes staring at me. This thing is a T-Doll. It shouldn't be able to feel, yet it seemed to exude pity and curiosity. How disconcerting.

I can't rest easy in this truck with this thing sitting opposite of me. Sitting in here, with this thing watching, in a five-hour long journey to this FOB at the foot of the Carpathian Mountains, was nothing short of a torment. Perhaps this was Grifon and Kryuger's way of punishing me.

Knowing the boss-lady, this was likely the intention.

"You are my commander, right?" it spoke. Its voice was like that of a human child. It looked like a human child. It even moved like a human child.

It held out its right hand. It smiled innocently like a child.

"I am Nagant Revolver. Nagant M1895 Revolver."

I could hear Ahmed's static-filled death-cry in my ears.

The doll's smile faded slightly. It drew its hand back.

Silence fell between us. I looked away. Only the rocking of the truck, now, to take it off my mind.

"Why is my name Nagant Revolver?" it suddenly asked. Rhetorical question. A machine asking a rhetorical question. "Well, you see, I'm etched to this gun."

It drew and spun its revolver with unnatural smoothness, completely unhindered by our turbulent ride.

"It's a Nagant M1895 Revolver, commander," it said with an uncannily child-like beam. "A revolver from the tsarist era. For officers and cavalry only! Impressive, right?"

I did not humour it. Undeterred, it continued, "I am etched to this weapon, commander. Etched to a symbol of honour! That makes having me a symbol of honour too! You should treat me with care and respect!"

I scoffed. The asphalt road was cracked and potholed. The vegetation was becoming sparse.

I continued to look out of the back of the truck. It continued to stare. It will continue to stare at this corpse of a man. Nothing I can do about. At least it's quiet now.

_It calls itself Nagant Revolver, by the way. A gun. It named itself after a gun. Maybe you might find this funny. Not so funny for me. It was watching me all throughout the trip here. All five hours. It watched me sleep._


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_First day in the office. What an impression. Scarcely any time to settle down. Got used to the command equipment and a crisis reared its head. Wonder if the boss-man knew this was going to happen._

**0900**

"You are Cetin Yilmaz, correct?" said the receptionist. The patch over his left pocket read 'Lev Kuznetsov'. "Tactical Commander Cetin Yilmaz?"

I nodded. He glanced up at me. "Memo mentioned a tactical commander coming in but never said anything about him being a Turk. So, what's your story? How did you end up here, in the Glorious Union of Soviet Socialist Republics?"

"Took work as radioman in 'Protsvetaniye Benzina'," I lied.

"Protsvetaniye Benzina, huh?" he put down my papers. "I see. You must be one of the lucky ones then. A pretty bad accident, I hear. So...what did you lose?"

My false fingers twitched. "A pound of flesh."

"A pound of flesh? Feeling cheeky, aren't we?"

I replied with a hard glare. If that had affected him, he showed no indication of it. He kept that posed smile on his lips. He gave me a look-over in a manner that reminded me of that machine in the Kiev Hospital.

"I see, I see." His smile took on a pitying quality. I stared at him, unmoved. He nodded with posed empathy. "You must owe Grifon quite the sum. Well...well...how did you end up as a tactical commander instead of an auxiliary guard like myself?"

"Hey, Lev! Don't keep the commander! Orientation's starting in ten minutes!"

"Right, right, Kalin."

Lev looked at me right in the eye. He slid a plastic card across the counter-top. "Barely put your bags down and it's already orientation, eh?" he said. He smiled like a bazaar fishmonger. "Welcome to S09 subsector 1, commander."

I proceeded towards a woman who looked too young and dressed too strangely for this place. As I left Lev, I heard him regard the T-Doll who had followed me here, "You are Nagant Revolver, correct?"

"I am Kalina, your logistics officer," the woman introduced herself. "Just call me Kalin. You are?"

"Cetin Yilmaz," I replied.

She gestured straight ahead down the hallway.

"Choose us, Join us, Grifon Private Military Contractor, the shining beacon in a brave new world," she recited with practised cheerfulness.

We took a right turn.

"Grifon's run into some trouble last year. Truth be told, I wasn't sure we are getting a new tactical commander at all."

I could feel her eyes on me, studying me, probing me.

"Who's been running this base in my absence?"

"Ahaha~" she laughed wryly. "I did."

"I see."

"Well, you are here now so…"

We stopped before a steel double door, pulled out her plastic card and tapped it against a pad beside the door. The door slid open. I noted the thickness of the door before I stepped through the portal. Inside, right before me, was a large table with a glossy screen for its surface.

"...welcome to your new workplace."

She walked around this central table, clutching the table's edge as she did so.

"This is your tactical map."

I searched around the table. Clean, not a single speck of dust. No scrolls, no photos, no radio, no markers or pens or stacks of notes or intel reports. Nothing. Nothing like what I used to work with.

"I see no maps here. Just a table."

Kalina giggled. "The table _is_ the map. Don't tell me you had only ever seen paper maps?"

She reached the opposite side of the table, rested both her palms on the table's sides and leaned forward. "Use your keycard to switch it on."

I stepped forward, studying the slanted edges of the table as I did so. A pad on one side of the 'tactical map'. Looked the same as the one by the steel door. I lifted up my plastic 'key' card and flipped it back and forth. Both sides were blank, except for a series of numbers on the bottom right edge. I tapped the card on this pad and the table's surface lit up. It displayed what looked to be the environs of the base.

"Let's see, let's see…" Kalina mumbled as she looked into a white slab I recognised as a 'tablet'. Junk back in Istanbul but it seemed to be used extensively in Europe. Or at least in this Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. "Right. Hover your hand, and I mean either one of your hands, over the tactical map and pinch to zoom in."

I extended my left hand into the light and did so.

"A south-paw, huh?" Kalina commented. "Flick your index finger and thumb away from each other to zoom out…"

After a few minutes of instruction, I understood the basics of navigating this strange 'map'. It felt strange, operating this contraption. It reminded me of those pre-war sci-fi movies Phillipes used to show me.

She handed me a pair of headphones with a mic attached. It's identical to the one I used to use back in The Nest, if I ignored the fact that it was missing its cable. I looked around, looking for the source of these pair of headphones and found a stand from whence it must come from.

"These pair of headphones will be how you will communicate with your T-Dolls. Put them on."

As soon as I wore them, she informed, "Nagant Revolver should be positioned for deployment."

Nagant Revolver. That red-eyed child machine.

She showed to me her tablet. It displayed the contents of a manual. A set of numbers were highlighted in it. Coordinates.

"Punch the coordinates into the keypad on the tactical map."

The display switched to what appeared to be an airstrip. I could see the aforementioned T-Doll on one end of the airstrip and a target dummy on the other end.

"This is where we launch our Predator Mk III UAVs," said Kalina. "We have four of these stationed in our base. It's how we monitor area S09 and the AO. Alright, press the button beside your headphone and say something."

"...Hello," I said. The voice that replied made my hair stand and my false limbs ache, "Hey, commander! What are your orders for old me?"

I looked at the instructions on the manual and stated my command, "Target dummy, straight ahead."

"You mean that dot at the far end of the airstrip?"

"...Take it out."

"Roger! Witness the ability of an old Imperial soldier!"

The T-Doll ran along the airstrip towards the target dummy. Thirty seconds, a screen appeared over the tactical map, displaying the target dummy and the T-Doll's shoulder and right arm.

"Every T-Doll echelon comes with micro-drones for combat visuals," Kalina clarified.

The T-Doll barely stopped in its tracks when it lifted its revolver and opened fire. I looked away as seven flashes filled the screen.

Kalina looked at me and grinned. "You can use the same gestures you used with the map to zoom out the micro-drone visual." She had misunderstood. She must have thought that the flashes stung my eyes. That flashes weren't what bothered me, it was the spectre of Captain flashing in the screen.

"Look at what my experience has accomplished!" it cried over the headphone.

My throat was too tight to answer. I clutched my chest, over where my heart should be. Beads of sweat were beginning to form on my forehead.

"Huh...that's strange," mused Kalina. I kept silent. "When did we deploy those? Hang on, those aren't ours. Those are...PROWLERS?"

"Commander! There are Sangvis Prowlers here!" cried the voice over the headphone.

I shot towards the tactical map. My heart pounded the moment I beheld a group of familiar machines on it. Quadruped autonomous vehicles. Same as those things that prowled the opposite side of Channel Istanbul.

"Commander! Do I engage or do I withdraw?"

"Take them out. Take them _all_ out."

**0945**

I was awoken by an infernal beeping sound. I had learned to despise it since I first heard it two months ago. I tapped on the button on my table. The holographic projector conjured the ghostly image of the boss-lady in response. She glared at me with the intensity of the desert sun. I felt compelled to glare back in kind.

"I have received the report from Kalina. Excellent work eliminating the Sangvis scouts around your base with a single T-Doll."

"Skip the empty praises, Helianthus," I scoffed. "You know as well as I do that even Kalina can do this."

"I'm more impressed that your T-Doll is still functional. I was under the impression that you would have sent your T-Doll off on a suicidal charge."

"_Your_ T-Dolls are more than a match against the Prowlers. I had seen them in action. Position them in the right cover, alert them of enemy approach, and they will wreak havoc on your enemies."

"In the _right_ cover, Commander Yilmaz. That is the deciding factor in this case. I had seen the feeds. You had Nagant Revolver hold out in the hangar as soon as she eliminated the first four Prowlers. You had her lure them close while taking potshots at them the moment they get within effective range. You had her reposition to the higher floor when they broke through the front gate, and you had her exiting from the window to flank them once they are boxed in... "

"You aren't here to discuss my tactics."

I looked at the screens arrayed on the walls. The Sangvis T-Dolls, Scouts and Prowlers in every zone in subsector 1 shown on the feeds were moving in a sweep formation.

"You are here about all these...Sangvis that are currently scouting out subsector 1."

Boss-lady pursed her lips and studied me hawkishly. "Your assessment is correct. I see you had gotten yourself acclimated to the hardware we've provided you."

"I had time to read the manual."

I looked at the glossy surface of the tactical map. Not glossy anymore, what with the base layout and perimeter on display. I imagined if the display was off, I will see a sunken, emaciated skull staring back at me.

Thirty Prowlers and Scouts, split into four groups, stationed around the base's perimeter. I looked at the command tablet clutched in my hands. 0:00:30 estimated time of repair completion.

"So, this is what I am here for. Me, and this one T-Doll."

I glared at Helian. She looked back, unaffected. My dry throat rumbled as I spoke, "You plucked me out of Istanbul in hopes that I can do to your enemies what I did to your vaunted Grifon and Kryuger."

"We did not expend so much effort and resources to acquire you just to send you out on a suicide mission, Commander Cetin Yilmaz."

Flashes. Death-cries of my brothers. The rickety door shattered. Captain dead at my feet. Bullets riddling his chest. Yellow eyes gleaming in steel-tinted smoke.

My throat tightened. My heart ached. Burning in my prosthetics. The fingers contorted. I croaked and uttered, "Then why pluck me from Istanbul. Why deny my rightful place in the grave alongside my brothers?"

"I'm not here for your melodramatics. I'm assigned the task of investigating the cause of this incursion. You'll be assisting me. Your first order of business is to eliminate these scouts positioned at the perimeter of your base. You'll _not_ move out immediately. I've sent a contingent of T-Dolls, plus dummies and additional ammo supplies, to assist you on this task."

"These Sangvis of yours are not interested in attacking this position, but that could change at any time. Am I expected to hold this carcass of a fort for another five hours until your 'contingent' of T-Dolls arrives in this ruin of a base?"

I glimpsed on her a loathsome smirk.

"No, the ETA is one hour. I've forwarded their dossiers to Kalina. Take this downtime to finalise your echelon formations. You're to send these echelons out as soon as they arrive at your location."

The hologram winked out. As if on cue, the steel door slid open.

"Commander, Nagant Revolver is repaired and ready for duty," reported Kalina as she walked through the door. She was tapping on her tablet. "She asked if you have any words of praise for her."

"I have none."

Kalina looked at me and blinked. "Come on, commander! She just took on and defeated seventeen Prowlers by herself! You should go see her at least. Praise her and give her a headpat."

"It simply did as it was designed to do."

"'It simply did as it was designed to do,' commander? She took on these seventeen Prowlers not simply because she was ordered to, she did it because she wanted to impress you! She wanted you to acknowledge her! She has feelings, you know. She is a...!"

"She is a T-Doll. She is a _machine_."

We stared at each other. I can tell, from the look of her eyes, that she must despise me, despite the smile she was wearing.

"Helianthus called me a moment ago. She states that you have the dossiers of the incoming arrivals."

She made a series of taps on her tablet and uttered, "...Right. I'm forwarding the dossiers to your command tablet now."

"How many Auxiliary Guards do we have stationed in base?"

Kalina gave me a hard stare. Her smile faded slightly. "Grifon policy states that the Aux Guards are to be the last resort, commander."

"Until the reinforcements arrive, we have to take the last resort. Nagant Revolver took on seventeen Prowlers and lost its arm. There are thirty Prowlers and Scouts out there. Are you banking our survival on just this one T-Doll?"

Kalina's smile had turned into a frown. "Sixty. We have sixty Aux Guards stationed in our base."

"Weapons?"

"PKPs, AK15s, PP2000s…"

"Tell me the weapon classes."

"LMGs, ARs, SMGs…"

"Get them to plug the breach to the north of the airfield, near the hangar where Nagant Revolver fought in, and the west of the main building. Six LMGs on each breach. Two in front, one flank, against the walls, three elevated position. Stay in these covers, they are out of their direct line of fire. Twenty two ARs on elevated positions for each breach. These Scouts, the Sangvis Ferri product catalogue states that they are very agile and can easily sidestep machine gun fire. Is this true?"

Kalina made another series of taps on her tablet. "Yes, I had seen the live demonstration videos of the Scout units, back when Sangvis Ferri was still a business. If you like, I can show you the vids…"

"Do we have claymore mines? Anti-personnel grenades?"

Kalina squinted at her tablet. "We do, commander."

"Plant claymores around the breaches. Try to herd the scouts before launching the grenades into the midst of them."

"What about Nagant Revolver?"

I stood up and walked off to study the tactical map. The Prowlers and Scouts were circling around the base's perimeter. No build-ups visible anywhere.

"Do we have light vehicles?"

"Four jeeps."

"Put Nagant Revolver in one of them. Take one AR out of the hangar and have him drive that jeep. I need it mobile. Prepare to transport it to reinforce any particularly battered positions, on my word."

Kalina looked up from her tablet with an arched brow but decided to say nothing.

**1000**

1000\. Four dolls and their dummies arrived. IDW, Sten Mk II, FNC, Springfield. Noisy...Cat, Schoolgirl, Schoolgirl, Old Soldier. Enough for the task at hand.

First group engaged. Second group engaged. The attacked retaliated. The others...did not reinforce. Why? They weren't even looking towards us. What were they looking out for?

"Hey, Commander! You are watching, aren't you! Hey! Look at the accomplishments of an old imperial soldier!"

_"Djinn 1. We have cleared the barracks. Now moving towards their storehouse. Over."_

"That's unfair nya! You only shot one of thyem nya! If I didnyan distryact them, you wouldnyan have pulled thyat shot off nya!"

_"Djinn 2. Sighted three LMGs. Two-men patrol on the ground. Taking the shot on your order. Over."_

"Commander! We took out the last group! We did it, commander! We did it!"

_"Djinn 1. Secured the storehouse. Seems we have stirred up the hornet's nest. Holding position. Get our trucks over here. Over."_

Stinging in my throat. My flask ran empty. I stared blankly at the feed screens on the wall.

That infernal beeping again. Head on north, she said. Zone T04. Smokes at the border. Sangvis spilling out. Fierce fighting on the roads. Helos evacuating. Two trucks moving out.

Clear out T04. Protect the convoy transporting injured T-Dolls.

'Injured'.

Strange word to attach to damaged machines.

I gave the order. The T-Dolls complained but they obeyed. Five dolls and twenty dummies filed into the helo. It was 1030.

**1200**

I stared out towards the white-tipped Carpathian Mountains, with a freshly filled flask and an empty wrapper in my hands. I brought my radio, in case someone called.

The boss-lady was here. She arrived thirty minutes ago. She's had gone to Tech to speak to the damaged T-Dolls I had extracted from T04.

I took one last sip, then got up to return to my post. Eyes on me, as I trekked past the motor pool and the hangar, as I crossed the compound towards the headquarters. These damned clothes were attracting too much attention.

Red trench coat with fur-lined collar. Who designed this uniform?

Lev nodded at me as I passed Admin. As soon as I reached the cross-junction, a T-Doll in thick woollen clothes intercepted me. "Commander!" it cried. It clutched my right hand. A sharp pain stabbed into the false limb. "Commander! You have to send me for the next mission!"

I grunted and tore my right arm away. "Commander!" it cried as it caught my right arm again. "Please! The next mission is to rescue Skorpion! I have to go, commander! Skorpion was captured because I was a coward! I left her behind when I fled the safehouse in subsector 4! You have to let me rescue her! I have to do this! I have to make amends!"

'Cowardice'. 'Make amends'. Human concepts uttered by a machine. Who programmed these machines to utter these words? I took a deep breath and gazed upon it. Its eyes were tearing. I felt my skin crawl. Such human-like behaviour exhibited from the machine.

"I will consider it," I uttered, hoping that it will let go of my false hand.

The T-Doll took a step back and bowed deeply. "Please," it pleaded again. Pleaded. Like a regretful human seeking penance. I felt my skin crawl and looked away.

The boss-lady was waiting in the Nerve Center.

"You arrived promptly," she said. I grunted in reply.

She tapped on the tactical map.

"From the intel provided to us by the injured T-Dolls from T04, we have located Skorpion here."

More taps. Tactical map centred on the next AO. A blinking dot over a building at the far end of an airstrip, by the riverbank.

"A Sangvis command post. Your objectives are to rescue Skorpion and to scour this command post for operational records."

"Rescue? Why?"

Helian looked at me as though I had said something banal.

"Skorpion may be in possession of valuable intel."

"Shouldn't the retrieval of its memory module be sufficient?"

The boss-lady stared at me but kept her silence. I thought I saw a flash of perplexity on her.

As soon as she departed, I looked to the tactical map. More flat terrain. Enemies...one mixed Scout-Prowler echelon, one Prowler Echelon and one scout echelon. Rippers guarding the command post.

Road cutting through the south forest, leading into a village right beside the airfield. I punched in another coordinate. The tactical map changed to that of a zone south of the AO. A suitable landing site just beside the road leading north. No enemy presence there.

Yes. This will do.

I looked at my command tablet. Two more T-Dolls, rescued more than half an hour earlier, added to the roster. PPSh-41. The one in the wool clothes. Ingram MAC-10. Crazy grin. Already fully repaired.

I put on the headphones.

"PPSh-41, Ingram MAC-10, Springfield, FNC, Nagant Revolver. Report to the helipad. Sortie in five minutes."

**1400**

"Commander!" Kalina said. She looked angry. "What's with you?" I glanced at her, then returned to the tactical map. The helo has entered our airspace. "You act as though your entire family had died!"

I did not make mention about how right she was.

She made some strange noises. Her eyes were red, her cheeks puffy. She immediately grabbed my right arm and tugged at me. "Come! We are going to welcome the T-Dolls!"

"Welcome the machines? Why should I?"

I felt my neck crack. I felt nothing on my right cheek. Her eyes were teary. "Why should you? These are our girls, commander! It's only right that we welcome them back! What would you feel, if you returned home to find nobody waiting to welcome you?"

_The Nest. Statics. The Nerve Center. I sat in my wheelchair, facing towards the door. It had been three days. They should have returned. Footsteps. The door slammed open. Suleiman and his long rifle. Ahmed and his Skorpions. They had returned from their scouting expedition. They were laughing about some adventure they just couldn't wait to share with me. I tried to smile. Hand on my shoulder. _

_Captain. Crinkles at the edge of his eyes. He was smiling. His teeth were yellow. When was the last time he brushed his teeth?_

"_Close enough," he said. "Close enough." _

Down the hallway, compelled by a force not my own. Right turn. Lev was reading his newspaper. Out of the door. Left turn. The sound of rotors. A shove forward, as the landing gear touched the ground.

The T-Dolls filed out. The one they called Skorpion limped out of the hatch, supported by PPSh-41 and Ingram MAC-10. PPSh-41 was crying. Ingram MAC-10 was grinning like a boy with a cage full of rats. Skorpion said something and laughed merrily, despite the fluids leaking from its sides and the absence of three of its fingers. It locked eyes with me. It shook itself free from its fellow machines' clutches.

It limped towards me, one plodding step after another.

"Commander!"

"_Hey, Cetin."_

It held my left hand with both its hands. I could feel the warmth behind its gloves on my palms. It wrung my left hand. It was smiling. A toothy smile like those of a child's. A radiant smile unmarred by the dust, the 'blood' and the 'scars' on its face.

"Thank you! Thank you for saving me!"

"_You can't believe what Ahmed did yesterday. The idiot…" _

I yanked my hand away from its grasp and walked away. Away from the helipad. Back to the Nerve Center.

**1415**

A call from the Boss-lady.

"Your target this time is the Sangvis Ringleader - Model SP65 'Scarecrow'."

The image of the target emerged from the holo-projector. It took the form of a pale-skinned woman, wearing a rebreather. Three drones hovered around it.

"Memorise the information of this target. According to information provided by the rescued T-Doll, she knows the details and objective behind the recent Sangvis raids. Our objective is to capture her and extract her memory module. Unlike previous minor skirmishes…"

I scoffed. Minor skirmishes?

"...this time your troops will be up against an advanced T-Doll."

Clearly.

"But you've made it this far. I'm sure you can handle this."

"I'm delighted by your show of confidence."

The boss-lady gazed at me, unaffected.

"Begin the operation, Commander, and good luck."

I immediately studied the trove of Intel provided by HQ. The intel provided included the details about this Scarecrow model. Recon unit. Armaments, three drones armed with particle weapons. Effective range, 400m.

Movement records…

The radio beeped. An accented female voice emitted from the headphones.

"Commander, this is FAL, reporting from T03, captured Sangvis command post."

Same place we recovered the captured T-Doll called Skorpion.

"Grifon Intel team was scrubbing the Sangvis command post in T03 when a large number of Rippers, Prowlers and Scouts emerged from the forest to the south."

I looked to the feed showing T03. Large numbers of Rippers, Prowlers and Scouts cutting across the airfield to attack the captured command post. Their movement origin point, the southern forest. The same route I took to flank the defenders of the same command post.

The southern forest...elevated position, a cliff overlooking the command post…

I activated the tactical map. Flat terrain in a kilometre radius around the forested cliff. Can't see what's under the foliages.

"Intel team's still there?

"...Yes. They are still here, commander."

"How long do they need?" I asked.

"We are consulting the Intel team about it and will advise once we receive an answer. Commander, will you assist us?"

"Expect reinforcements in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, commander."

I supped from my flask and switched the radio channel.

"Sten, Ingram MAC-10, FNC, Springfield, Nagant Revolver. Report to the helipad. Sortie in five minutes."

The radio beeped. It was Skorpion.

"Commander! Send me out!

I looked at my command tablet. "00:22:00"

"You are not fully repaired."

"...Commander, no, Cetin. You are going after Scarecrow, right? Send me! I have to take revenge!"

I cut the T-Doll off. The radio beeped again.

"Cetin! You _have_ to send me!"

"You are not fully repaired. I will not deploy you."

"But…Cetin! Scarecrow's the one who led the task force that scattered my comrades! For their sake, I have to…"

"PPSh-41 and Ingram are also victims of Scarecrow. They can take revenge on your behalf."

"Cetin! I was their leader when we took on Scarecrow! We were routed because of my failure, Cetin! It is only right that I put her down myself!"

I continued to stare at the command tablet. "00:19:10".

"Denied."

"Cet-"

I cut her off and set her frequency to mute.

I then called up Tech and uttered a single phrase, "Tech, confiscate Skorpion's radio."

**1430**

FAL, FN49, BAR, HK416 and G11. Strangely-dressed, strangely-dressed, sunglasses, German and sloth. Three elite models, a...veteran...and a...greenhorn. Veterans and greenhorns. Strange terms to apply to machines. Were the writers of these dossiers afflicted with the same sickness Kalina had? Was it contagious?

A swarm of red blips advanced across the airstrip towards the captured Sangvis command post, the T-dolls' position. Their numbers thinned out as they went. A large mass of red blips followed, thrusting towards the perimeter, from behind the thinning clusters of the previous wave. Clear circles radiated from among their throng, three in total, annihilating multiple blips at once. The rest of the blips vanished soon after.

Another mass of red blips rushed their positions from all directions a few seconds later, surrounding the command post. Again, their numbers thinned out as they closed in on the perimeter, then vanished entirely.

"Siskin 1. LZ's hot. Please advise alternative LZ."

"Head south to this town and deploy at the outskirt."

"...Commander. The town is 400m away from the command post. The T-Dolls will have to fight their way through that throng of Sangvis all over the airfield to relieve the defenders."

"This LZ is unoccupied and puts them closer to Ringleader in the forest."

"Ringleader? Are you sure?"

"High likelihood. Deploy there now."

The radio beeped again. FAL. I ignored its hail and focused on the tactical map.

The helo touched down in the town square. I watched as the T-Dolls and their dummies poured out of the helo's hatch.

"Team Skorpion, ready for your orders!"

I blinked. If the tactical map wasn't active, I may see that my eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. I took a sip on my flask. The Kvass stung my throat. My voice rumbled.

"Team Skorpion, move along the houses facing to your left towards the town square. Engage the Scout-and-Prowler echelon as soon as you get within range."

Flashes of light. Beams of energy shot out of the forest and struck the houses and assorted cover.

"Scarecrow is engaging us! I repeat! Scarecrow is engaging us!"

"Follow your orders."

Five blue blips winked out. Three Ingram MAC-10, two Skorpion. Dummies all. I watched them cut in half or split asunder by green beams of light. They weren't aimed for the SMGs, they were aimed for Springfield and FNC. The SMGs, with their dummies, had formed a mass between Scarecrow and the aforementioned to intercept the shots.

Skorpion had called its fellow T-Dolls 'comrades'. It had intercepted the shots meant for its 'comrades'. Was this programming or did it truly consider its fellow machines as its sisters?

Focus on the battle.

The Scouts and Prowlers in the Town Square turned towards the Grifon T-Dolls and moved to intercept them. Smoke shrouded their path, concealing the Ingrams as they charged into the fray. The rest took cover behind the abandoned vehicles and buildings. As soon as the smoke cleared, they opened fire.

Ingram MAC-10's blips did not disappear on the tactical map.

Wicked spine-shivering laughter echoed from the radio. "Heh, weaklings!" Ingram MAC-10 said, voice filled with manic revelry. "Send something tougher, Scarecrow!"

Three green beams scythed through the town square as though answering the T-Doll's hubris. Multiple beams struck the fountain, charing its chalk-white surface. Ingram MAC-10 had dived behind the fountain.

"Springfield, cut through the houses and cover the rest of your team from the Church. FNC, assist Ingram MAC-10. Skorpion and Nagant Revolver, use the houses to your left and flank the Rippers closing at Ingram MAC-10."

"Aye, aye, Cetin! Hey, Nagant! Hurry it up!"

"You are running too fast, Skorpion! My short legs can't keep up!"

"You can run faster than that, granny!"

Kvass burning my throat.

"Springfield, in position."

"Scarecrow in your visuals?"

"Yes, commander."

The micro-drone feed lit up. Flames blanketing the middle of the street. The Rippers were devoured by its scorching embrace.

"Did you see that, Cetin?"

"Springfield, fire at Scarecrow. Take its drones out if the opportunity presents itself. Ingram MAC-10, deploy smoke grenades and get to the houses. FNC, take cover behind the fountain and prepare to lay down covering fire."

Tracers flashed on the micro-drone feed. Two beams of light scythed through the smoke as Ingram MAC-10 and its last dummy rushed to the house on the right side of the street.

"Nagant Revolver, Skorpion, Ingram MAC-10, cut through the houses to reach Scarecrow. Springfield, pin it down. FNC, open fire."

Bright flashes on the feed. Blips cut through the houses on the tactical map. Sangvis forces surrounding the captured command post had begun to retreat, with FAL's team in pursuit. The radio beeped again, and again, I ignored it.

Ingram MAC-10 ripped its way towards Scarecrow from amongst the foliages. The Ringleader's remaining drone swung towards it and fired. Bullets poured from behind the dummy before it hit the ground. The lead hail slammed into the drone, sheared off its carapace and pierced its internals.

Ingram MAC-10 trampled on its own dummy as it closed in on Scarecrow. The Ringleader hovered back, narrowly evading the T-Doll's daggers, only to be caught by Skorpion's and Nagant Revolver's collective fire. Before it could respond, its arm was torn off by Springfield's shot. Moments later, FNC's bullets ripped through its false skin and splattered metal and fluids all over the street.

Not long after, Scarecrow laid limp on the ground. FNC had emptied its mag into its hindquarters.

Five minutes later, FAL's team arrived at the town and were making their way towards Scarecrow. FAL dropped an object. The unmistakable blue glow of a hologram emerged from it. The boss-lady conversed with the vanquished Ringleader.

A minute later, the blips scattered. An inferno erupted at Scarecrow's position.

**1500**

"Well? What do you think of us now?" Skorpion, its hands on its hips, grinned toothily. "We are very strong, aren't we?" Its wound was hastily patched up with some kind of hardened foam. Its right arm, which used to be missing three fingers, was entirely replaced with a crude skeletal limb.

I walked past it and took a left turn into the mess hall. Dispensed a cup of instant coffee, took it to a corner and sank on the white bench.

"The Anti-Android Group has issued a statement…" said the television on the wall to my right. It was of the same make as the screens hanging in the Nerve Center. "Let it be known that this will not be the last IOP factory we attacked. We will not stop until all the automatons are excised from human society. These abominations have no place among us!"

"Flush! Again!" cried one of the aux guards gathered at the table to the furthest top-right.

"Again? You are bluffing!"

"I swear the lucksack cheats."

I got up and left the mess hall, taking the coffee with me.

"Commander," FNC drifted towards me as soon as I exited the Mess Hall. It showed me its hand. "Give me my reward."

I looked at its hand, then back at it. Its eyes seemed to glow with anticipation. False eyes glowing with anticipation...Perhaps there was a glitch in my own eyes.

"What reward?"

"Choco! I want choco!"

"What for?"

"I put Scarecrow down, didn't I? Give me a reward!"

I walked past the T-Doll. It immediate sped ahead of me and blocked my path. It puffed its cheeks and demanded, "Chocolate!"

I rifled through my pocket and just handed over my chocolate ration.

"Ration? Ewww…" it grumbled.

"Chocolate is chocolate."

Once I passed the hallway leading down to Admin, I could hear Lev puzzling, "HK416...HK416…Strange. I have nothing on you, miss. Are you sure you are in the right place?"

"I am in the right place. Check again."

"...Huh…"

Kalina brushed past me and strolled towards Admin. "Sup, Lev?" she said as she rested her forearm against the desk and leaned towards him.

"Ah, Kalin," greeted Lev before returning to his computer. "Ms. 416 here said that G11 and herself are posted to this base but I don't see any…"

"Oh, that. Right. I forgot. Helian had alerted me about them thirty minutes ago. Sending their dossiers to you."

Kalina made a series of taps on her tablet.

"Ah, received it." Lev leaned towards his computer. "Special orders, eh?" Lev looked up from his computer towards HK416. "Are you and G11 some kind of secret weapons?"

HK416 was unaffected. "I'm an elite T-Doll."

Lev leaned over his desk to look at the snoring T-Doll slumped against the wall. "Same with that sleepyhead over there, huh?"

HK416 glared at him.

Lev looked at Kalina. "Why does the Helian always send to you these things but never to me?"

"Beats me." Kalina shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe you aren't handsome enough."

"Ouch, woman. Ouch."

I found that I had grown accustomed to the screech of the steel door when I entered the Nerve Centre. I sank into my chair and stared at the feeds. The Sangvis dolls in subsector 1 were still about. I sipped on my coffee.

I continued to stare at the feeds, for no other reason than that I had nothing else to do. I kept watching, watching, watching as the Sangvis dolls moved about seemingly without direction. I took one more sip and realised that the coffee was gone. I laid the mug down on the table and kept watching.

Eventually, I tire of the feeds. I looked at my blank desk. Nothing here but a laptop and a command tablet.

The place was silent. Utterly silent. Completely absent of the bustles that used to erupt around me every time after an Op. No Suleiman and Ahmed to recount their adventures, no Phillipes turning up with some new books he had found, no brothers Amir and Muhammed listing the spoils of our raids…

No Captain and his, "Job well done."

I buried my face in my hands.

...That infernal beeping again.

**1700**

Gnawing in my false limbs again. HK416 looked at me as though I were some kind of novelty. Its companion, G11, was slumped against its shoulder. I stared at the command tablet, doing my best to ignore it. I watched as the altitude decreased and the plateaus rose.

"Scarecrow's memory module was destroyed. However, our Intelligence Department has uncovered our next lead from the Sangvis command post," the boss-lady revealed an hour and a half ago.

"'Sequence no. 835492660223'. Intelligence Department has uncovered coordinates hidden in here. I need you to investigate this coordinate."

The coordinate led us to a farmland and vineyard in subsector 2, bordering subsector 1 T03, where we captured that Sangvis command post. Sangvis Scouts and...Dinergates...patrolling the perimeter of a manor, our objective, on a plateau.

"Where do you want us to land, boss?" the pilot, Nicholai, asked.

"Circle around the manor. BAR."

"Yesh, commander?"

"Open the hatch and fire upon the enemies below. Controlled burst."

"Yesh-yesh…" it replied languidly. I found myself sighing in irritation and had to remind myself that it's just a machine, programmed to be lazy.

Why did anyone program an android to be lazy?

The hatch slid open, and BAR's weapon thundered. The sound of ejected casings rung throughout the fuselage. "Hahaha! What are they, dumbarses? They are chasing after the tracer rounds!" Ingram MAC-10 exclaimed. I focused on the tactical map on my command tablet. The Scouts and the Dinergates were converging towards the helo's general direction like mad cattle.

"Take us to the farm."

"You want us to land there?"

"Just cut across the farm and hover there. BAR, ceasefire. Resume fire only if they break pursuit."

"Yesh-yesh, commander. Gee, they are really nipping at our heels, aren't they?"

BAR took aim. "Maybe a little more." It pulled the trigger.

The animalistic machines did not break pursuit. They followed us into the wilted farm.

"Skorpion."

"My turn to show off, Cetin?"

My brow wrinkled but I decided to withhold comment.

"Throw incendiaries into the field."

"Is it slash-and-burn time?"

"...Just throw the incendiaries."

The dried-out crops made fine fuel for the conflagration consuming our pursuers. The red blips winked out. Eight, sixteen, thirty-two…

"Woah! Three incendiaries and you got yourself seventy-six kills?"

"Cool, huh? I'm pretty awesome, yeah, Ingram?"

"Awesome? That is magnificent, Skorpy!"

Once all the blips vanished from the tactical map, I instructed Nicholai to swing around the voluminous smoke and land a short distance away from the plateau.

The T-Dolls, BAR, HK416, G11, Skorpion and Ingram MAC-10 hopped out of the helo. No dummies. I loaded my service pistol and followed after them. Skorpion hummed a cheerful tune, probably that of a children's song, as it went up the dirt road. Ingram MAC-10 and BAR followed. BAR was dragging its feet.

"G11! Wake up!" HK416 shouted harshly at its sleepy companion.

"Mmm...ueeeh…" G11 stirred. It took one look at the terraces and moaned, "I don't want to walk. That ramp looks troublesome. Carry me, 416."

"Walk, or I'll drop you into the burning field. Your choice."

"Ehhhh, 416, you meanie…"

Voluminous black smoke rose from the aforementioned burning farm. Its plumes fed an ominous cloud.

A short uneventful trip up two terraces. Left turn from the dried-out fountain. Crosses the courtyard. Stones buried under weeds. Rotten, shattered double-door. Dilapidated roof.

Skorpion and Ingram took their positions on both sides of the shattered double-door. The echelon's micro-drone moved in to survey the hall. Satisfied that there were no hostiles within, we moved inside.

Our guns were still raised as we looked about. No enemies on the grand stairway, no enemies waiting to ambush us from the hanging corridors, no enemies leaping out of the rooms.

"Think anyone's home?" Skorpion asked.

"Maybe?" replied Ingram MAC-10.

"Nobody's home, right? Right?" asked BAR, concerned. Hearing no replies, it did a little fist bump. "Yes. I can take it easy."

Ingram MAC-10 started shouting, "Hey! Anyone here? Don't mind if we tear down the place!"

"Shush!" BAR cried in panic. "Gimme a break, people. I've been fighting all day. Can we have the rest of the afternoon without any trouble?"

"Sweep the mansion," I instructed.

"Yes, commander," replied HK416, nodding in affirmation.

The T-Dolls moved to execute their order. All except Skorpion.

"Sweep the mansion," I repeated.

"Cetin. You are our commander. You need someone to bodyguard you. There's no telling if…"

"Skorpion!" I growled.

Skorpion glared at me with its one good eye.

"Sweep the mansion!" my voice echoed through the hall.

Skorpion's lips twitched as though it wanted to say something. "Hmmph!" it huffed as it walked away, heading towards the rooms below the stairway.

Quiet stillness. No signs of life here other than my own. The still, stale air reeked of years-old dust and mould. Only the footprints on the faded marble floor as signs of recent visitations. Many footprints. Ours and the enemies'.

Swept my pistol around, wary of any unseen foes. Up, left, right, all clear. Slowly backed up the stairs.

Swung around and froze in my tracks. Framed canvas twice my height. Faded colours still retaining an impression of this mansion, on its perch overlooking the river and the opposite cliff. Green below, far too pale. Patches of white floating over it.

Second oil painting I had seen in my thirty-two years of existence. Placed my left fingers on it and traced them down its surface. Its colour rubbed off. Flakes of paint on my fingertips. Sensation like powder.

"_Cetin! Do squeeze in a bit more."_

"_Van's...too cramp...Phillipes. We...don't...have...any more room."_

"_Well, throw something out! We need to make room for this priceless treasure!"_

"_We can't...throw anything...out...and…you know that. These...are our...radio equipment."_

"_Alim can fix us a new radio, Cetin. This painting? It's priceless! Irreplaceable! A piece of history! Look at it! It's Suleiman the Magnificent!"_

"_...Who?"_

I blinked. The radio, in walkie-talkie mode, had beeped. "Commander," a cool voice I recognised as HK416 emitted from the device, "I have located a trapdoor in the wine cellar. Movement detected inside."

**1800**

The shattered glass cracked under the weight of my boots. Wine had spilt all over the clobber-stone floor, filling the cellar with the stench of stale alcohol.

Looked at my command tablet. The micro-drone feed had cut off, but I had glimpsed what looked like Scarecrow's drone facing towards the feed, and thus, the ladder.

"Popping smoke," Ingram MAC-10 said. "You guys back me up. No telling how many drones are down here."

It leapt down into the abyss the very moment smoke rose from the trapdoor. HK416 followed immediately after. The sound of gunfire roared from below. "Clear!"

"Ueeeeh…so noisy…" G11, which was slumped against one of the shelves, moaned in reply.

The drone's sheared carapace shriek under my boots. "Easy peasy. Didn't even break a sweat," Ingram MAC-10 announced. Its grin was all teeth. It was waving one of the drone's leaking modules, impaled on its dagger, with one hand. With its free hand, it showed me a thumbs up.

HK416 stood aside to reveal what looked to be blocks of obsidian. It's three other guardians lay shattered on the floor. No bullets had marred the obsidian blocks' glossy surfaces.

I rose back to the wine cellar.

"Ingram kicked their rustbucket arses down there, didn't she? Cetin?" asked Skorpion, who was kneeling by the ladder. I ignored it and exited the mansion to make a call.

**2100**

Silence. No sound of fan-blades. No murmurs or chatters or twists and turns. Time...2100.

The Nerve Center was bathed in the eerie blue of the tactical map. Feeds brightened, lights switched on.

I groaned, pinched the bridge of my nose and rubbed my forehead. No missed calls on the holoprojector's display. Awakened the laptop. No new emails.

The chair creaked. Cold steel under my armpit. Lumbered out of the sliding door.

Lights brighter than the sun in the hallway. The glossiness of the floor exacerbated the matter far worse than the white Turkish sands. I thought to call the prosthetic tech. Complain about the delay in the light compensation. I decided against it. I owed too much as is.

Straight, then left turn. Mess hall.

Ingram MAC-10 was watching the television. Legs on the table, sucking on her juice-box. Skorpion and FNC in the next table.

"You sure you want to take that square, FNC?"

"Of course I do!" replied FNC, in between the munching of its chocolate. "There!" The white token clacked.

"Hahaha! You fool! Take that!"

Black token clacked.

"Just like that, I flipped three rows!"

FNC leaned forward and narrowed its eyes. It bit down and chewed on its chocolate again. "...Clever girl," it then muttered.

Skorpion grinned like a child menace. "No, you are just stupid."

It noticed me. "Hey, Cetin! Want to join us for Othello?"

Moved straight to the counter. Picked up a packet of MRE and a box of juice. Turned around and left.

Nobody at the desk in Admin. Out of the door. Compound's brightly lit. Not as bad as the interior of the main body. Cement ground did not reflect any light.

Night shift guards on patrol. I did not recognise their faces. They ignored me as I crossed the compound. Must have thought I was one of them. Should thank Lev for the fatigues.

Got to the back of the hangar. Quiet place. Shaded from the light.

Sat on the cement ground and ate my supper.

Quiet. Boots muffled by the concrete walls. I put the wrapping and juice-box down beside me. Tucked them together nice and neat. Pulled my left leg close and laid my head against my knee.

**2300**

Woken up again by nothing in particular. Stamping boots in the distance, not loud enough to be picked up by the inattentive. Gibbous moon overhead. No stars in sight.

In Istanbul, there were no city lights. Wheel out of the door, go down three alleys and looked up to the twinkling stars.

Auriga, Perseus, Big Dipper.

What else had I lost?

My left hand fell on my pistol. I looked straight ahead, out into the grass. Blinking lights of the UAV descending onto the airfield. Silent like an owl.

I unstrapped my pistol and cautiously drew it out. I held it in both my palms.

MP-443 Grach. Izhevsk Mechanical Plant. First issues, 2003.

Slid out its magazine. Eighteen 9mm. Slide it back in. Turned off safety, pulled the slide. Turned the pistol to look into its barrel. Finger on the trigger. The plastic gnawed into my skin.

"_Cetin. LIVE!"_

I dropped the pistol onto my lap and stared at my empty palms.

Five minutes. Maybe more. My eyes stung. Blinking lights fading into the horizon. Mist all around. Cold concrete wall against my back. No stars to see.

Fingers absent-mindedly searched my pockets. Skin brushed against a smoothened edge. Pulled out my dictation machine and turned it around. Blocky. Stick-like. I pressed the record button.

Feelings poured into the machine. Message, meant for the Captain. It will never reach him.

For how long had I spoken to the machine?

I switched it off and clenched it in my fist. Buried my face in my knee again. Ribs ached, lungs groaned. Choked on my phlegm. Coughed into the dirt. My eyes peeked from above my knee. Looked into the grey mist.

"What do you want, Yellow-Eyes? Here to torment me again?"

Yellow-Eyes stared wordlessly.

"Nothing more for you to take. Go away!"

I pulled my pistol at it.

It had already vanished into the mist.

_Our enemies are some of the strangest I had encountered so far. Remember those quadruped machines that roamed the other side of the Channel Istanbul? They are called Prowlers. The Sangvis Ferri, our enemies, field these in great numbers. Alongside them are these...Scouts. Agile like crows. I had seen them dodge machine gun fire. Then we have these packs of...robot dogs. Dinergates, they called them. Dinergates. Robot dogs._

_..._

_There are also the T-Dolls, but they are also strange. You know that sci-fi movie Phillipes used to play on the television? Star Trek? How that show had these...phasers? Laser weapons? _

_The Sangvis androids use those. _

_Yes, you told us that things are better in Europe. Cleaner, more fertile, more...advanced. Yet, to find myself facing such enemies is just...strange. It felt as though it was just yesterday I was commanding our men to battle other men. Men wielding AK's and Galil's. Today? I commanded androids wielding all sorts of weapons to fight strange machines and androids wielding weapons straight out of Star Trek._

…

_Yes, Captain, my troops are T-Dolls. Like that Nagant Revolver I told you about at eight-thirty a.m. The T-Dolls are effective weapons. Yet...it feels wrong that I am wielding them. Commanding the things that killed our men. Like I had committed the most heinous of blasphemies._

…

_Europe is a mad place, Captain. A mad place. The T-Dolls are mad. They are machines, yet they speak of such human concepts like camaraderie and revenge. They speak of gratitude and appreciation. They want treats, they want praise. They even kill time by playing board games and watching television. It's like they are people._

_The people are mad too. Lev spoke to them as though they are fellow soldiers. Kalina, my logistics officer, demanded that I treat them with care and respect. That I praise them for a job well done, that I welcome them when they return from their missions. 'They are our girls', she said. It's like she had forgotten that these are just machines built in our image for the purpose of war._

_Yet, still...I don't know. Do you remember that raid we had against the Red Shashkas? Our twenty men against their hundred? How Hameed held off wave after wave with his MG? How Suleiman and Ahmed took out their MGs and snipers before any of them could fire a shot?_

_When I hear the dolls chatter over the radio, I hear Hameed and Ahmed. _

…

_I can't get rid of it. The memories. I'm haunted by them. Those tranquil days where we can't do anything and had to wait for the scouts. That one time Phillipes tried to shove that painting into my van…_

_Heh. I remember, Captain. You screamed at him for it. Fought with him over it too. About the foolishness of throwing out survival necessities just to preserve a piece of forgotten history. Phillipes won't talk to you for a week because of this spat. You know what he called you? He called you a Dark Ages Ignoramus. A Dark Ages Ignoramus! Ha!_

…

_Captain…_

_I should have died back in Istanbul. I should be in the sewer as food for the rats. Yet I live, as a pawn for someone else's war. I resent that order you gave me. The first order you had uttered in a decade...and the last one you will ever utter...and it is for me to live?_

_I have nothing here, Captain. Just this life shackled to your executioners by the chains of debt. _

_I could have pulled the trigger, Captain. End this miserable existence right here and now. I resent your final order! I resent that promise you made me take!_

_Tell me Captain. What's the point of living if I have to endure this life as a prisoner of your killers?_

_I wish you were alive long enough to rescind that order. I wish you'd allowed me to die. _


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_In the quiet of the Nerve Center, I found myself wondering when's the last time I had a proper night's sleep. Perhaps when I was a child? No...even then...an eight-hour sleep had eluded me._

_To take my mind off the ill-legends of the Long Night, I watched the UAV feed recordings from the past twenty-four hours. From them, I learned that our enemies had trickled into subsector 2 and 3 whilst I was busy with Scarecrow's forces. Worse, subsector 4 is teeming with the Sangvis. _

_My first thought was that this place was not to be my prison but my gallows. That indeed, my jailors had tire of me and had sent me here to be executed by our enemies. Yet, the boss-lady's assertion and the elite T-Dolls that now...slept... in the barracks of this base suggested otherwise. _

_Perhaps what Grifon intended of me was simpler, that they only want me here to fight against this superior enemy, to inflict upon them what I had inflicted upon my Istanbul adversaries for the past decade. That, I am uncertain. Kryuger, the warlord of this PMC, is an inscrutable one and I have yet to ascertain his motives._

_What I can be certain of is that the Sangvis outnumber the base's garrison greatly. Yet they have not brought their overwhelming numerical advantage to bear against us. They hadn't swept down from the highlands of subsector 4 like sandstorm-driven dunes when they could easily do so._

_Why?_

…

_The answer to that question can likely be found in the computer blocks in that ruined manor in subsector 2. However, having heard nothing and read nothing about the matter, I believe the boss-lady isn't inclined to share that information with me._

_..._

_Perhaps I don't need to rely on the boss-lady for that information. Perhaps Skorpion knows. I will have its memory module mined for information. Particularly on what had stirred up the Sangvis and what Scarecrow was seeking in subsector 1. I will do this once the sun rises. For now, I must look to our defence._

…

_This subsector 1 is ill-suited for the task. Too many open fields, too few forests to take refuge in, villages too scattered. Not enough hills. I need a better fallback position prepared in event of a Sangvis invasion. _

_..._

_Perhaps subsector 2 or subsector 3? _

…

_I need Kalina's assistance in the scouring of the Data Room for map data on these subsectors. That will have to wait until sunrise. _

…

_The night is still long. _

**0300**

"You alright there?"

My eyes snapped open and I pulled my pistol at the source of the voice.

"Hey! Easy there, Tovarisch," the voice said again. The haze cleared, and I saw that the person speaking to me was an Auxiliary Guard. His name patch read 'Grigori Fedorov.'

I cautiously lowered my firearm. I realised that my heart was palpitating and that my throat had tightened.

"Is he up yet, Griga?" another person asked. The source of this young voice looked greener than the pastures of subsector 2. He was wearing a sneer similar to Hameed's when he recounted his kills with his MG.

I found myself looking at the pistol held loosely in my hand again.

The sneering guard patted Grigori's shoulder. "This one's Grigori," he said. He slapped his left chest. His name patch read 'Dimas Volkov'.

"I'm Dimas. Dimas…"

"The Gopnik," Grigori remarked.

'Dimas Volkov' scoffed. "I have a surname, you know."

"Yes, yes, Dimas the Wolf," Grigori rolled his eyes. He then gazed at me with probing eyes. "You are the Turk Lev told us about, aren't you? Commander Cetin Yilmaz?"

I did not answer.

A taunting whistle. "The Commander's a terrible shot," said Dimas while pointing his flashlight at a stationary target dummy. "One whole mag and he's only hit the target dummy once." He turned his attention to me and grinned slimily. "Maybe that's why he needs his girls."

"Who are you to criticise?" Grigori said. "You didn't even hit the target dummy the first time you handled the AK15."

"It's not my fault that the piece of shit is so hard to control," Dimas snapped.

"Anyway, Commander," Grigori's brown eyes gleamed with sympathy. "What's your story? Why are you sleeping in the range instead of your own quarters?"

I replied to his query with a stare. After a few minutes of hanging silence, I got up, gave them both a nod and left the range. "Sorry for bothering you."

My pulse raised as I cut through the fog. My true palm, resting on my pistol, was drenched in sweat. I kept looking back despite myself. I had glimpsed Yellow-Eyes in the fog at the corner of my eye.

Yellow-Eyes was not the only thing lurking half-concealed in the fog. Other shadows, always in pairs, flitted about under the radiant street-lights. Some drew close enough for me to identify as Auxiliary Guards.

"Hello."

"Cold morning, isn't it?"

I answered their greetings with nods.

I slowed my pace once I got through the door.

The hallway's still uncomfortably bright, though my eyes did not sting as much this time. They must have gotten accustomed to the brightness. My throat still felt tight. I went straight ahead, pass the unoccupied receptionist's table and into the Mess Hall. Grabbed a plastic cup, dispensed the cold water, gulped it down. Two glasses. Three. Bubbles erupted from the bottom of the dispenser.

A light giggle from the counter.

"What?" I snapped at Springfield.

"I'm sorry, commander," it replied, smiling serenely. "This is the first time I see someone jump to the sound of a water cooler."

My skin crawled. The T-Doll was studying me with disconcertingly gentle eyes. I looked away from it and stared into my plastic cup.

"Are you unable to sleep, Commander?" it asked with a gentle tone. "I can make you some warm almond milk if you like." Noting my silence, it added, "It helps you sleep."

"I am fine," I croaked. "What are you doing in the Mess Hall at this hour?"

It held the tray out a pitted aluminium tray towards me as though anticipating my inspection. There were doughs in its pits.

"I'm making muffins."

It pulled back the tray.

"Not just muffins, of course," it continued, still wearing that gentle smile. "I will bake cinnamon rolls and chocolate brownies next. It won't do for any of the little ones to feel left out."

It opened the oven's door and slid the tray inside.

"I will hide away half the chocolate brownies," it said as it twisted the oven's knob. "That half is meant for FNC." It then winked slyly, "Rewards for good behaviour. Please keep this a secret between us. "

The oven ticked.

"So," Springfield started while removing its mitts, "how about it, Commander?"

"How about what?"

The T-Doll tilted its head. It then giggled and beamed. "My my, have you forgotten about the warm almond milk already?"

I said nothing. I simply turned around and left the Mess Hall.

Lights blinked on the moment I stepped through the threshold into the Nerve Center. The feeds activated, showing the dark interrupted by pinpoint lights. The lights marked the various outposts the Sangvis had established in S09.

I sank into my chair and opened the lid of my laptop. The screen lit up, showing the news articles I had browsed a few hours previously. All dating from up to a year ago. They carried headlines such as 'Unexplained Blackout of Sangvis Ferri Holdings' and 'Establishment of Quarantine Zones in Ivano-Frankivsk Oblast.'

I flipped open my dictionary and continued the night's reading. This, I did, until sleep overtook me once more.

_There was a night at around this time, where Ahmed shared tales about Phillipes. _

_Ahmed told us that Phillipes came to the Middle East from his native France to pursue the most brutal of warlords. Ahmed told us that no bullet could stop him, no explosion could scare him. He was persistent, as befitting a man on a Jihad. _

_Ahmed admired the man._

_I learned this was why Phillipes was in the Middle East and not in his native France. Once the green rain fell and the green mist settled over the desert, he was trapped with us. The border closed. He can't return to his homeland. Yet, he didn't stop. Even when he can't go home, even though he can't tell his tales of infamy and bloodshed to the people of his homeland, to make others see the horrors he had seen, he continued with his Jihad._

_You called him a real pain in the arse but I think you also respected him. Perhaps that was why no matter how fiery the spats go, you never considered removing him from our midst. _

_You respected his persistence and his dedication to the truth. To the free press. The desire to lift the wool which blinds the world from the brutality of men. You respect him for his dedication to his Jihad._

_..._

_This land perverted the aims of his Jihad._

_..._

_I saw what this free press he praised and held in great esteem is like in this country. News flow freely in the Soviet Union, but they are buried under layers upon layers of lies and fabrication. _

_This Pravda, it reported the Sangvis uprising as a communications blackout. Then it claimed that it was an ELID outbreak. _

_|Mirthless laughter|_

_Yes, an ELID outbreak. We saw what those monsters are like and what they did to the land. Such a brazen lie. When that didn't suffice, the Pravda then said that the Sangvis deployed their robots to deal with the threat, then the robots were hacked and turned against the rest of us. _

_Perhaps the last part is true. I wouldn't know. My search for clarification was met with the same story. The Krasnaya Zvezda? The Sovetskaya Rossiya? The lies were repeated there as well. It's even worse in the Sovetskaya Rossiya. One journalist of that paper claimed that the Germans did the hacking, while another claimed that the French did it._

_If Phillipes knew of this, he could very well bring his Jihad here._

_..._

_So, apparently, the robots I was sent here to quarantine were fighting the ELID. I walked in the mist. Perhaps tomorrow I will turn into a mindless beast._

…

_|Sound of drinking| That's a good joke._

…

_It's Smirnoff. Stronger than the Kvass I brought here. Stronger than the moonshine we used to drink in The Nest. You might like it once you taste it, I think._

_..._

_I don't know if you knew, but Phillipes used to work with the newspaper company named the Le Télégramme. I tried to look it up and found that I can't access it. Likely blocked._

_The Soviet Union is more willing to be open with their news because they have better control over the news. This 'free press' of the Soviet Union is a sham._

…

_|Sound of drinking|_

…

_Yeah, Phillipes would bring his Jihad here._

**0845**

Thunderclap. The house of wood and stone shattered. A rain of shells, ashes and debris. My right arm and leg ached.

T-Dolls pouring fire at their encroaching adversaries. Sangvis dolls riding on what looked like motorcycles on legs. With an extended roar, their miniguns loosed a hail of flashing bolts. The T-Dolls' measly cover evaporated under the weight of the miniguns' fire.

The last of them fell. Fiery claws raked my flesh.

I picked up the bottle. Last drops dripped into the shot glass. Another crack of thunder. Metal blades gouged into the earth and stone.

A man in a red coat crawled out of the helo's carcass. The black and purple tide advanced. A Dragoon kicked the man down and planted its leg into his chest. Blood spurted out of his mouth. My right fingers stiffened. Burning in my throat.

The lights flickered on.

"There you are," Kalina's said.

I did not reply.

"Good morning to you, too," she greeted. I could feel her hands pressing down on my shoulders and her shadow falling over me. "What were you watching all night?"

I did not reply. Silence fell. One minute. Two minutes. My chair creaked, the pressure lifted from my shoulders.

"...Wash your face, Cetin. Helian will be calling for you in fifteen minutes."

**0900**

I turned up in the Nerve Center at exactly 0900. Kalina was there, with her tablet in hand. A steaming mug of coffee, a packet of dry foodstuff, carrying the label 'Caloriemate', and a disc rested on my desk. The infernal beep which heralded the boss-lady sounded.

Kalina whistled. "Right on cue."

The boss lady gave me a stern look. "Commander Yilmaz," she greeted. "Today, you will be participating in a special training."

"Special training?" My left brow arched. "In these trying times?"

"It is in response to, as you put it, 'these trying times' that HQ has drawn up the additional training regimen. With it, we intend to accelerate the familiarisation of all rookie commanders with their duties."

The boss-lady turned her attention towards Kalina and said, "Kalin, I will speak with the commander in private."

"Ho…" uttered Kalina. "This is a first. Are you making a move on the commander, Helian?"

The boss-lady shot her a withering glare. "Yes, yes, I understand. I'll let you have the commander to yourself." Snickering to herself, she left the Nerve Center. As soon as the steel door shut, I commented deliberately as though disbelieving every word that I had uttered, "I am a rookie commander?"

"You are registered as a rookie commander in our database, Commander Yilmaz. As such, you are not exempted from taking this training regimen."

"All this effort to avoid bureaucratic complications," I muttered. I sighed and continued, "What does this training regimen entail?"

"This training regimen is a series of four simulations based on your battle records. You will complete the first simulation today."

Apparently having sensed my discontent, she added, "It may be the same operation, but we have greatly increased the enemy's troop numbers. You will find that the challenge has not lessened."

She narrowed her eyes. "Prove to us that Director Kryuger's faith in you is not misplaced. The disc containing the simulation program should have arrived in your base along with the day's supply shipment. If you can't find it, ask Kalin. Insert it into your tactical map and complete it. I expect the submission of your simulation results before 1200. Helian out."

With that, the hologram winked out. Immediately after, the steel door slid open. "Is she gone?" Kalina asked as she walked through the door.

"Helianthus mentioned a disc. Is it the same one you have placed on my desk?"

Kalina snapped her fingers and grinned. "Pretty observant, aren't you?" She then curled her fingers into an imitation of a gun. With her 'finger-gun', she pointed at me and answered, "Yep! That's the one."

"So…" she rubbed her hands together, cracked her neck and then her knuckles. As a show of enthusiasm, I suppose. "Before you start, what are your orders for the day?"

I passed to her my memo, written on paper the previous night. She gave it a look-over. Her smile's brilliance faded. "Shouldn't you speak to Skorpion regarding the extraction of data from her memory module?" she asked.

I looked at her quizzically before replying, "Do I need to ask a machine for the permission to operate it?"

She broke eye contact, looked at the note and let out an uncomfortable laugh. "Well, you know…" Her body language displayed her reluctance. "She would prefer it if you ask for her permission first. She would throw a fit if you just..."

Again with this.

"It can throw all the fit it wants but it will ultimately comply, Kalina. You know this."

Kalina dropped her smile and said sternly, "She has feelings, Cetin. We had gone over this already."

I sighed. "A machine is still a machine. Just order it to hand over the data. It is obliged to comply."

Kalina gave me a hard glare. Her cheeks were red with anger and frustration. She did not voice them, however. Instead, she inhaled, exhaled and inquired, "So, what memories are you looking for?"

I answered, "Anything relating to Scarecrow. Anything that may point to the cause of the Sangvis breaking their one year of silence and inactivity."

"I will tell Skorpion and Pierre that." Kalina sighed. "I should get the data before lunch."

"I'll leave you to your work," I said before turning to my desk. I picked up the disc, glanced at the feeds before moving towards the tactical map. The Sangvis were gathering at the border between subsector 4 and subsector 2.

"Prioritise the UAV visuals and maps of subsector 2, Kalina. Feeds going back 24 hours," I instructed.

She left the Nerve Center at around the same time I slotted in the disc into the tactical map. The machine turned on and spat out my mission objectives as well as the map of the simulated AO. With a flick, I brought up the roster of deployable T-Dolls. The same ones available in this base.

T04. Same forest, same town, same fields. Two Ripper Echelons, one Scout Echelon and one Prowler Echelon. Prowlers positioned at top of a cliff east of the forest. Rippers in the town north of the forest. One echelon at the town's southern border, the other in the town square. Scouts roaming the flat strip between the forest and the town. Mission objective...destroy all enemies.

Lure the Scouts into the forest. The density of the woods should limit their mobility. See if the Rippers will follow them into the woods. Hold the forest if the Rippers move in to back the Scouts. Else, keep their attention to the forest as rest of echelon move along the mountain-side to the west to flank the Rippers. Second Ripper Echelon will move to support the first.

Prowler on cliff's edge may drive down south of the forest to flank Grifon T-Dolls from there. Another Echelon is needed to prevent this.

I need two Echelons.

First Echelon: PPSh-41, Ingram, FNC, BAR, 416.

Second Echelon: Springfield, FAL, Skorpion, IDW, Nagant Revolver.

Team 416 will draw the Scouts into the forest and eliminate them there

Team Springfield will move along the mountain-side and take positions at the west of the town.

If the Prowlers move in to support the Scouts, Team 416 will turn around and deal with them. If the Rippers move to the forest, Team Springfield will fire at them to pin them down, buy time for Team 416 to finish with the Prowlers and turn towards the Rippers.

If the Prowlers hang back, Springfield will fire at the Rippers in town while the rest of its Echelon move in to flank the Rippers. Team 416 must move in to support as quickly as possible. Pincer the Rippers before the Prowlers move in.

If Team 416 is unable to capture the town before the Prowlers' arrival, BAR will turn around and suppress them. Springfield will pick them off.

I started the exercise. I intended to finish it within the hour.

**1000**

After reviewing the simulation overview, I sent it to my laptop. From there, I completed the submission process. I slumped on my chair and sup on my now lukewarm coffee.

The caffeine kick was much stronger. I felt it coursing through my veins. This wasn't instant coffee.

Before I could puzzle over the beverage, the door slid open. To my surprise, it was Skorpion which had barged through the threshold.

"Oi! Cetin!" it shouted.

"What's the bright idea, ordering Tech to extract my memories?"

Its cheeks were flushed. Its single blue eye was glistening as though it was about to shed tears.

Seemingly infuriated by my silence, it stamped its feet and demanded, "Cetin! Answer me! Why didn't you speak to me about my memories first?"

"Skorpion," I enunciated with calmly and with clarity, "report to Tech for memory extraction. I require your memory data starting from 24 hours ago."

"No!" it exclaimed its refusal, to my surprise. "No! I am not going anywhere, Cetin! Not until you explain yourself!"

It seized my collar and lifted me up. "Why didn't you speak to me first, Cetin?" it inquired while shaking me violently. It shed a single tear from its single eye.

"Skorpion!" I said again with a harsh tone.

"I am not going anywhere until you answer me, Cetin!" Tears were beginning to stream down its cheek.

"Seriously! Why can't you speak to me first? Why won't you treat me like a person?"

My silence inflamed its indignation further. "I'd been trying!" it cried. "I'd been trying to help you open up, damn it! Why won't you open up? Why won't you speak to me? What is wrong with you?"

I replied with a hard, remorseless glare.

"Why won't you speak to me? We are family, aren't we?"

_Flickering, swaying yellow light. Fading gunfire echoed outside my door. Muhammed's MG had gone silent. Statics. Phillipes' excruciating cry in the radio. _

"_Cetin…" Captain's voice was pained. "Cetin...we are on our last legs. They did a number on us."_

_I heard him coughing. A gurgled cough. _

_With sweaty, trembling hands, I pressed the button and wheezed, "Yellow-Eyes...Orange-Eyes... where...are they?"_

_Another pained cough. "Killed them *coughs* for the fourth time."_

_I asked, with increasing dread and sorrow, "Where...where are the rest? Suleiman? ...Amir? Ahmed?...Muhammed?"_

"_Dead." He coughed again. "Phillipes will join them soon. *coughs* I don't have long *coughs* myself."_

"Get out!" I barked.

Skorpion froze. Its eye was wide open. "W...what?" it stammered. "After all this, why..."

It hit its head against my chest and cried, "Why can't I get through?"

"Get out!" I growled harshly. "Get out! Clean both helos in the hangar and do not return until you are done!"

Its cheek was wet with tears. Its shoulders shook, as though sobbing. Its grip on my collar slackened enough for me to shake myself free. With heavy feet, it went for the door. It gave me one last look before crossing the threshold.

As soon as the door slid shut, I clutched my right arm and limped towards my desk. I pulled up my chair and sank in it. My right fingers were acting up again. Pain stabbed into my right leg.

I looked about. The flask was empty. There were no Smirnoff anywhere. Just the coffee mug. It will have to do.

One minute. Five minutes. I watched the feeds, watched the Sangvis trickle down the mountain pass at the border between subsector 2 and subsector 4. Gathering, growing into a malignant mass, poised to metastasize.

I looked away from the screens and into the black beverage in my mug. No reflection. The shadow of the mug was too deep. I wondered what I would see if the lighting was right. I pondered over the meaning of its words and gestures. I wondered what it was I saw in its eye.

**1400**

Four hours had passed since my...confrontation...with Skorpion.

"Kalina," I asked, out of the blue.

She stopped tapping on her tablet. "Hmm?"

"You had stopped by the hangar an hour ago, yes?"

She made another tap on her tablet. "Yep."

"Had Skorpion finished cleaning the Mi-17's?"

Kalina peeled her eyes from her tablet and gazed at me.

"She's already finished, Cetin," she said, her intonation carried a hint of pride. "Cleaned the helos nice and spiffy. Polished to mirror shine."

"Where is _it_, now?"

She paused momentarily before shrugging, "No idea." I noted that she had averted her eyes slightly. "You can ask around for her whereabouts. Check with the gate guard tower. The T-Doll posted there should have seen her."

Noting my silence, she added, "As long as you don't repeat what you did with Skorpion, she should be more than happy to answer your questions. In fact…" a grin crept up her face, "...why don't you try conversing with her? She would appreciate the distraction from her boredom."

Before I could protest, Skorpion's outrage flashed before my eyes. My lips flapped, yet I uttered not a word. Twice, thrice. I shut my mouth and kept my silence. Upon seeing this, Kalina's grin took on mischievous quality.

"Just get out of the Nerve Center and do as I suggested, Cetin."

I looked aside towards feed of the subsector 2-subsector 4 border. The black and purple blot on the screen was starting to trickle into subsector 2.

"It's not like we can mobilise immediately to subsector 2 anyway," Kalina continued. "While I prep the supplies and equipment, you go stretch your legs and build rapport with our staff. That includes our T-Dolls."

**1420**

"And by shooting at my dummy, she bit my bait," MAC-10's voice rung from the Mess Hall. "That is how I took out her last drone and closed in on her at the same time."

"Why didn't she shoot you right after she put down your dummy, miss?" a male voice inquired inquisitively.

A manic laugh. "Her drones have a one-second delay. Too slow to stop me from getting in her face."

I took the right turn towards the exit.

"So, as Scarecrow reared up her fist, I emptied my chamber, all seven bullets, into her back, I did!" Nagant Revolver noticed my approach and fell silent immediately. It, and IDW, retreated as though seeking refuge inside Admin. "Afternoon, Commander," Lev greeted. His smile was strained. "Didn't see you in the Mess Hall. You missed Springfield's beef stew."

"I took my lunch in the Nerve Center," I replied.

Lev arched his brow. His posed smile remained fixed. "You should join us for dinner, Commander. Don't be a stranger."

I gave him a nod and exited the building.

Scorching summer sun hanging high in the sky. The air shimmered over the cement floor. A fleeting illusion of home. I stood at the foot of the guard tower. Before I could speak, I was immediately greeted cheerfully, "Hey, Commander!"

My throat tightened as I gazed into the yellow eyes peeking at me from behind the ledge on the top of the guard tower.

"Hey! Hey! Commander!" it greeted again. "I'm M14! Nice to meet you!"

I swallowed my saliva and gasped. "Comm...Commander Cetin Yilmaz. I'm...I'm here to inquire on the whereabouts of Skorpion."

"Skorpion?" M14 looked straight ahead, towards nothing in particular. "Ah!" it said a moment later, as though it had come upon a revelation. "You mean the yellow girl who was giving the Mi-17's a wipe-down, right?"

Whether it had seen me nodding in affirmation, I did not know. "I saw her talking to Kalin for a few minutes before heading north. Can't see where she went. The helos were in the way."

I nodded again and turned to leave.

"Ah! Commander! Wait right there!"

I fought down the urge to growl. "What?"

"The cans!"

It directed my attention towards the shredded aluminium cans on the roadside opposite of the guard tower, just three paces away from me. Bullet holes were gouged into the cement floor just behind the remains of these cans. A clear plastic bag loaded with cans was lying against the wall just beside.

"Help replace them with a fresh batch of cans? Pretty please?"

Kalina was right about T-Dolls being capable of experiencing boredom.

**1600**

_It's been almost two hours. Kalina did not answer my summons. Pierre, the Tech foreman, reported that he did not see Skorpion. _

_I called the radio, used the PA, again and again and again. Nothing has happened._

_I looked at the feeds as I waited. Looked at them so many times I got sick of them. _

…

_Even now, I am staring at the holographic projection of subsector 2. The single marker over this town taunts me. I will build a base camp there, and then what?_

_My objectives in this subsector elude me. They will continue to elude me if I do not know what the Sangvis are seeking there. _

_I need Skorpion's memory data. I can't have it if I don't know where it is. _

_...The flask is empty. It's still empty. _

…

_I suppose I need to talk about Skorpion. It...disobeyed my orders. It disobeyed the first time. It only obeyed after I shouted at it, albeit reluctantly. Now, it has failed to answer my summons despite the use of the PA system._

_..._

_I understand that T-Dolls are programmed to be unable to refuse a direct order. In that case, it must have found some kind of method or came up with some kind of interpretation of what constitutes an order. Neither should be doable by mere machines._

_The fact that it found some way to disobey my first and third orders puzzles me. The fact that it did so because it...believed...that I was being unfair and unjust puzzles me even more. _

_Why is a machine like this permitted to exist? Why was it designed this way?_

…

_There is also the matter of Yellow-Eyes. I had encountered a yellow-eyed T-Doll and, embarrassingly, reacted poorly to it. _

…

_I do not believe that this T-Doll was the one that attacked us. This yellow-eye, this M14, is etched to a battle rifle. The weapon's report does not sound like the one I heard in the sewer. _

…

_This will not be last time I encounter a yellow-eyed T-Doll throughout my sentence here, I believe._

…

_I'm going to return to that ill-omened night every time I meet a T-Doll with yellow eyes, aren't I?_

…

_Skorpion and Kalina haven't responded._

…

_I'm wasting time._

My restlessness and need for Smirnoff had driven me to the Mess Hall. MAC-10 and an Auxiliary Guard were playing poker, close to the silent television. FNC was at the serving counter.

"Sten! Choco brownies! I'm hungry!"

"Eh…" Sten, who was behind the counter, exhaled. "...you already had a choco brownie an hour ago."

FNC slammed its hands on the counter surface. "That's not me, Sten!" it insisted. "That's my dummy! I hadn't eaten the brownies at all! Give me a brownie!"

There was a twitch at the edge of Sten's lips.

"But FNC…"

"My my," uttered Springfield as it emerged from the kitchen. "Telling lies?"

FNC trembled slightly. "I'm...I'm not lying, Springfield," it stammered. "I really haven't eaten any brownies."

Springfield kept her frozen smile. "There won't be any more brownies for a week," it enunciated calmly.

"One...one week?" FNC shifted uncomfortably. "I...I can't survive one week without choco."

"Yes, FNC," Springfield nodded. "So, to survive this one week, what must you do?"

"Mmmmm…" FNC puffed its cheeks.

"If you do not say it, I will withhold brownies for a week." Springfield's tone seemed to have taken on a menacing aspect.

FNC turned its gaze towards its feet. It then said reluctantly, "I'm sorry, Springfield…"

"Who else should you apologise to?"

FNC turned to Sten. "I'm sorry, Sten."

"For?"

"I'm sorry for lying."

Springfield leaned forward and rubbed its cheek. "Good girl, FNC."

It fidgeted. It rubbed its shoe-tips against the coated floor. "Can I have a brownie?" it asked. It sounded hopeful.

Springfield still smiled. "Not until supper."

"But…"

"What did we agree on this morning, FNC?"

FNC looked at its feet. "...One for breakfast, one for morning tea, one for lunch, one for tea-time, one for dinner and one for supper…"

Springfield beamed. "You remembered. Good girl."

"So…"

"You are only getting one brownie for dinner and another for supper, as we agreed."

There was a feeling of creeping menace as its rub turned into a light pinch. "We agreed on this, didn't we?"

FNC shuddered. It backed away by half-a-step. It was still shuddering when it replied softly, "...Yes…"

"Now then," said Springfield as it released FNC's cheek. "How can I help you, Commander?"

I tore off my ticket and placed it on the counter. "One bottle of Smirnoff."

Instead, I found myself staring at a cup of hot tea.

"I didn't order for this," I remarked.

Springfield's smile remained fixed, "You do seem to need it, though." It tapped its index finger against the counter and continued, "Why not stay a while and have a chat with me?"

I glared at the T-Doll. Sten had retreated into the kitchen. FNC had already dragged its heavy feet away. Springfield's poise was unaffected. "You T-Dolls have a knack for disobeying or reinterpreting orders," I uttered. Springfield placed its right palm against its right cheek. It was wearing a small grin that was at once gentle as it was mocking. It uttered, "My, that was an order?"

I motioned to tap on my ticket only to find that it was gone. Deciding to count my last ticket of the month as a loss, I turned towards the exit.

"If you are going to look for Kalina or Skorpion in the warehouse or the armoury, you won't find them there."

I froze on the spot. How much does this T-Doll know? Springfield remained behind the counter, still wearing that gentle-yet-mocking grin, still with that cup of hot tea sitting on the counter.

I suppose I'll humour it to find out what it knows.

I gave the tea a little sip before inquiring, "When you said I won't find any of my quarries in the aforementioned locations, you meant…"

"They are there, Commander."

The tea was sweetened with honey. Springfield's grin had become inscrutable. I mulled over its words for a while. "My quarries are sequestered away in the warehouse or the armoury."

I received no replies.

I put down the cup of tea. Before I could motion to leave, Springfield asked gently albeit mockingly, "Do you intend to turn over every shelf and rack to look for your miscreants?"

"If that is what it takes, so be it."

"You are our Commander, aren't you? Why not ask for assistance?"

"It doesn't seem like you T-Dolls are keen on following my orders."

"I said 'ask' for assistance, Commander," Springfield clarified. "Not 'order' for assistance."

I scowled. Springfield replied with the same gentle but mocking smile. I sighed and relented. "Say your piece."

It started, "I know someone who can help you locate Kalina and Skorpion. She is a..." it paused, seemingly considering its words, before continuing, "...'natural' in navigating hidden passageways and finding hidden places."

"...It is a T-Doll."

A slight twitch on the edge of its right brow. "Before I can call on _her _to provide assistance, I want you to promise me that you will be patient with her and that you will treat her with the same respect you afford to our human friends."

"Promises are not for machines."

"Then," Springfield's smile turned into a more obvious smirk, "I wish you the best of luck finding Kalina and Skorpion on your own."

After a moment of consideration, I relented, "...How can you be sure I won't break my promises as soon as I make them?"

It tilted its head slightly to the left and placed its index finger at the edge of its lips. "My, you don't strike me as one to break your promises, Commander."

I exhaled irately. "Fine, I promise."

"What do you promise on?" it asked, coyly.

I glared at the T-Doll. It continued to smile, unperturbed. I sighed and replied, "I promise that I will be patient with it…"

"_Her..."_

"...her and I will afford her the same respect I afford to my fellow humans."

"And recorded," the T-Doll said as it produced a dictation machine and depressed its record button. It tilted its head slightly to its right and beamed.

I grumbled irately.

Springfield looked to the ceiling. "Tiss," it said gently. "Would you kindly come down and greet the Commander?"

"Derr`mo!" a groan rattled from above. "How did she uncover this secret weapon so easily?"

Springfield merely smiled.

**1645**

A thin bed with brown sheets at the corner. Directly opposite the bed, a fat box-like television sat on a small splinter-filled desk.

The floor was littered with screwdrivers, rolls of duct tape and half-assembled electronics. Their casings were of faded wood or black plastic. Their repaired brethren lined the shelves forming the perimeter of this makeshift residence.

I picked up a radio on the nearest shelf. The same model as that which had entertained us and sped us through countless sleepless nights. Its antenna and dials were mismatched. Geometrical holes on the casing exposed circuit-board and wiring. Hardened glue filled the crack on the analogue display.

Alim's marks were all over this radio. Yet, this wasn't Alim's room. The seven polaroids taped to the wall beside the bed were not his.

"If I were the Enemy of the People, where would I hide?" OTs-12, the T-doll Springfield called 'Tiss', said suddenly. It giggled to itself, as though it was amused by its own words. Grinning, it asked, "Kommandir, what do you think?"

I grunted. I would have left my reply at that if I hadn't made that promise to that robot that called itself Springfield. "How would I know?" I said as I returned the radio to its place on the metal shelf.

OTs-12 booed before stating, "You are no help, Kommandir." It paused before continuing, "You haven't issued a single command since we left the Mess Hall. Are you sure you are up for this secret mission?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Floorboards are off the board, heh heh."

OTs-12 looked at me expectantly with its strange eyes. "Ha ha ha," I droned. There was a brief look of disappointment on its face. Beyond that, it said nothing.

"Kommandir, help me up to the vents?"

I looked up before replying, "You won't reach the vent with my help."

The T-Doll boo'ed again. "You are no help, Kommandir. You have no future in the NKVD."

"Use the shelves," I suggested.

The T-Doll grinned and gave me a thumbs up. "Good idea, Kommandir!"

I rolled my eyes in reply.

It got onto the shelf closest to the vent. The radio started to shake. "Don't look up," it said as it clambered towards the vent. The radio rattled closer to the edge.

"Really, don't look up."

I secured the radio teetered at the edge of the shelf. I pushed it back to secure it. The grilles overhead emitted an ear-piercing creak.

Fifteen minutes since I last heard the banging in the vents. Statics and faint voices from the radio's speaker. A sudden clatter from five aisles away. I twisted the radio's dial and returned it to its shelf.

With brisk steps, I followed the direction of the noise to catch Kalina crawling out from under one of the shelves. She shot back to her feet, raised her hands and exclaimed, "I can explain." I recalled that I had run into several stacks of ammo boxes. "An ammo box fort?" I uttered. "With several other stacks around as decoys?"

A metallic wince from overhead. OTs-12 poked its head out of the vent-hole. "Found the Enemy of the People," it said.

"Eheh…" Kalina stuck out her tongue. "You caught us."

One of the boxes on the shelf shifted slightly to expose a gap. Kalina gesticulated. A few moments later, a voice I recognised as Skorpion's shouted from behind the shelves. "Dammit, Kalin! Why did you have to run out?"

"Ehehehe." Kalina shuffled her feet while rubbing the back of her head. She stuck her tongue out. Beyond these gestures, she said nothing. Instead, she moved along the aisle, made a right turn, then a left, and stood before a wall of ammo boxes. Skorpion was peeking from the top ledge. I sighted ear protectors on its head.

The logistics officer gesticulated at Skorpion and the T-Doll gesticulated in return. After several minutes of gesticulating back and forth, Kalina looked at me, shrugged and grinned. There was a smug quality to that grin. "Skorpion has delivered her ultimatum," she said.

Another loud bang from behind the wall of ammo boxes. Skorpion gesticulated wildly again. Kalina, who had watched, returned to me and said, "She insisted that you record our conversation."

I put aside the question of how the T-Doll knew about my dictation machine and asked, "What for?"

She frowned, "Until we can see you press the 'record button' on your dictation machine, we are going to stand around here staring at each other."

I felt a tug on my sleeves. "Tovarisch Kommandir," OTs-12 said, its tone pleading. "I don't want to miss dinner, Kommandir. Please accede to her demands?"

I looked towards Kalina. She was wearing a mask-like smile. Skorpion glowered at me from atop the ammo boxes. Its face lit up as my fingers tucked into my fatigues' breast pocket.

Upon the sound of button-click, Kalina cleared her throat and started, "Well, here goes. In Skorpion's words, 'I am not leaving this fort unless you promise two things! First, I know you had been referring to us T-Dolls as 'It!'. Stop that! You will refer to us as 'She' and 'Her'!'"

"You are that kind of person, Tovarisch Kommandir?" OTs-12 exclaimed. "I mean…" it recomposed itself, "I guessed you are that kind of person when I heard Tovarisch Springfield made you promise but to hear the confirmation…"

The T-Doll reared back in a dramatic manner. "Shocking!"

"Why are you surprised?" I asked rhetorically. "You are a machine, are you not? Is this not how one treats a machine?"

"Ehhh…" it puffed its cheek. "You really _are_ that kind of person."

Kalina ahem'ed loudly. "'Second, ask us directly when you need anything from us! Ask us like you would any other person!'"

"This is a waste of time, Kalina," I grunted. "Tell Skorpion to get out of there and surrender its memory data."

"You have no allies here, Commander," Kalina said, sneering. "I guarantee you anyone else you ask for help is going to make excuses and go somewhere else. Really. Make this easier on yourself and just promise her."

**1730**

Lev was away from his desk when I sought his assistance. Every other guard I spoke to were 'busy' with one thing or another. One said he had to help 'Papasha' plug the breaches. Another said he had to go clean his gun.

I wound up acceding to Skorpion's demands.

What looked to be the entire base had gathered in the Mess Hall. It seemed as though they had all magically heard the news through some kind of communication scheme I wasn't aware of.

No mutters, no whispers, not a single word from any member of the crowd. No murmurs whatsoever. As soon as I stepped through the threshold, Kalina's recorded voice sounded:

"Well, here goes. In Skorpion's words, 'I am not leaving this fort unless you promise two things! First, I know you had been referring to us T-Dolls as 'It!'."

Soft surprised gasps. Feminine. T-Dolls. Likely today's arrivals.

"Stop that! You will refer to us as 'She' and 'Her'!'"

"You are that kind of person, Tovarisch Kommandir? I mean…I guessed you are that kind of person when I heard Tovarisch Springfield made you promise but to hear the confirmation…Shocking!"

Hums of 'Mmm, Mmmm's.

"Why are you surprised? You are a machine, are you not? Is this not how one treats a machine?"

"Ehhh…You really _are_ that kind of person."

"AHEM! Second, ask us directly when you need anything from us! Ask us like you would any other person!'"

"This is a waste of time, Kalina."

A grunt. Mine.

"Tell Skorpion to get out of there and surrender its memory data."

"You have no allies here, Commander. I guarantee anyone else you ask for help is going to make excuses and go somewhere else. Really. Make this easier on yourself and just promise her."

The audio cut forward to Kalina's soft snicker and my sigh of resignation.

"Fine. I promise to both of Skorpion's demands. Can I have the memory data now?"

Skorpion's voice. "No! We are going to sit in the Mess Hall, Cetin. Then we are going to chat! Like people!"

I groaned internally as I pushed my way through the crowd. Just in time to see Kalina switch the dictation machine off. "This is a waste of time," I complained as I took my seat opposite of Skorpion. "Instead of wasting another one or two hours talking about what happened yesterday, I could have your memory files pulled at this moment. Five minutes, and you can go on your way."

Skorpion cracked a grin. "What's so bad about a conversation?" it said. It looked at the crowd around our table and exclaimed triumphantly, "Anyway, you heard the dictation machine, right? You are all witnesses here!"

Excited murmurs. Approving nods from both the T-Doll and the human staff. Another reminder that I am the outsider here.

"I made my promises," I said. "And by my honour, I will keep my word. Now…" I inhaled and exhaled. My sigh carried my weariness, "Will you follow through with your promise?"

"Who do you think I am?" Skorpion said. It sounded offended. "Of course I will keep my promise! On my honour and the honour of my entire family!"

Honour. Family. It uttered these words as though it truly understood them.

"Heh heh. You think I have parents, don't you?"

"Cut the nonsense and start already. In fact," I glared at the gathered crowd. "We should be speaking about this in the Nerve Center or the Data Room, with Kalina as our witness."

"Nuh uh!" Skorpion shook its head, "I want everyone to hear about the heroic me and how I managed to waste Scarecrow's time for a solid three hours despite her torture!"

Ingram MAC-10, Nagant Revolver and even this one? Do all T-Dolls love an audience?

"Can you even feel pain?"

Skorpion looked insulted. "Of course I can! Do you think I'm some awkward pre-war era Asimo?"

"...Asimo?"

"Very early humanoid robot from Japan. Tripped over stairs."

I stared at Kalina. She was grinning condescendingly.

"Hey! Don't ignore me!" Skorpion demanded, with a bang on the table. "Okay, so it all started very early yesterday morning in subsector 4 at 0500. I was camping out with Papasha, Ingram and Sturmgewehr-44…"

"Why were you three camping out?"

"Because we were stranded."

"How long had you been there?"

"A year."

I stared at the T-Doll. "...A year."

"A year." It nodded in affirmation.

I rubbed the sides of my forehead. "Continue."

"So yeah, we were stranded in subsector 4 until yesterday. That's when we made contact with M4A1!"

I looked at Kalina. From her confused expression, she mustn't have known about this M4A1.

"So...this M4A1…once you made contact with her, what did you do?"

"We followed her orders to rendezvous with her at a location designated as Safehouse 3."

More murmurs erupted.

"T-Doll following orders from another T-Doll?"

"She's got command authorisation!"

Even more murmurs. "They actually did it?" I heard Pierre mutter. "Those madmen in 16Lab actually made a command unit!"

"Hey!" Skorpion shouted. "Let me finish! Anyway, we helped M4A1 defend a safehouse, shooting wave after wave after wave of those Sangvis bastards…"

"Skip that bit."

Its grin faded slightly. "You don't want to hear about my heroism?"

"No."

The T-Doll deflated in apparent disappointment. "Booo…Anyway, we held the line until this one Sangvis ringleader just walked right through us and broke through the wall. Tried as we might, we just couldn't stop that horror-maid!"

"Horror-maid?"

"Agent!" someone cried from behind the crowd. "That's Agent, isn't it?"

"Yep!" Skorpion shouted back. "Anyway, M4 took care of her so no biggie."

More gasps. "She did?" cried someone in the crowd.

"Yep," a voice I recognised as Ingram's replied. "I was there when M4 eliminated Agent."

"Goodness! Now I want to meet her!"

"Anyway!" Skorpion raised its voice. "Turns out that this wasn't the end of it. More Sangvis in the horizon and M4's got some very important intel for the brass. We bought her and her team time to extract from the AO. We held the line as long as we could but there's just too many of them!"

"And you were captured then and there. Where is Sturmgewehr-44 and why wasn't MAC-10 and PPSh-41 with you?"

"I told them to run as I courageously made my last stand! As for Sturmgewehr's whereabouts…" Skorpion suddenly sounded morose. Its earlier boisterousness had evaporated. It shrugged its shoulders and continued, "I don't have a single clue. Could still be somewhere in subsector 4. Or maybe she already wandered into another sector...Anyway!" It suddenly lit up, "I'm thirsty! Can I get some water, please?"

Springfield placed the requested glass of water on the table.

"So, you are captured. By Scarecrow. And brought to subsector 1."

Skorpion gulped down its drink and set the emptied glass on the table. "Yep!"

"And you were interrogated by Scarecrow. Why didn't she just pull your memory files for the information?"

The T-Doll shrugged. "How do I know? Maybe the hardware is incompatible. Maybe they just didn't bring any equipment."

"Did you see what they brought with them?"

"Just a few consoles…" Skorpion's brows knitted. "...and computer blocks, I think?" It hung its head. After a moment's pause, it murmured, "It's really dark in their hideout..."

"Did you tell Scarecrow about M4A1's whereabouts?"

"Nope! She spoke to me three times and I lied three times."

"...You can lie."

Skorpion averted its eye. "...I can lie…"

"...Do you know why the Sangvis came to subsector 1?"

"Nope!" The T-Doll refocused its attention. "Can't ask! They were torturing me, remember?"

"Right...Since we are here, we might as well get to Scarecrow's destruction…"

"Oh! Oh!" Nagant Revolver cried out from among the crowd. "Hear me out! I also fought Scarecrow, I did! You should hear about how I took aim at her as she's distracted by…"

"FNC scored the disabling shot and emptied her mag into Scarecrow for good measure. All you did was almost hitting Ingram MAC-10."

A cold chuckle. "See what I told you guys?"

"Hey! This is my story!" Skorpion demanded.

"We are skipping the unnecessarily embellished battle scene and getting straight to Scarecrow lying on the ground."

Boo's echoed in the Mess Hall.

"I understand that Helianthus and Scarecrow spoke briefly before she self-destructed. You are there. Do you know the contents of their conversation?"

The T-Doll averted its gaze again. "...eheh…"

"Skorpion?"

"...well..." It started twiddling its thumbs. "You remembered what I said? About lying? Scarecrow saw through my lies…"

Silence fell. All eyes on Skorpion, all bearing a judgemental gleam. Skorpion stared at the table. It glanced at me, back at the table, then back at me again. With each glance, its face grew redder. Eventually, the T-Doll's shoulders trembled. The empty glass jumped as It slammed its palms against the table.

"I'm a bad liar, alright!" it cried.

"You are not a bad liar! You are a terrible liar!" responded FNC from amongst the crowd. "An absolutely shitty liar!"

"FNC! That's rude, da nya!"

"But it's true! She's a shitty liar!"

"Shut up!" Skorpion snapped. "Just shut up!"

Its outburst was followed by a tempestuous noise.

The situation calmed after ten minutes. Skorpion, still averting eye contact, tucked its hands between its thighs and rocked its torso. I broke the silence with an inquiry, "What else did Scarecrow do before she self-destructed?"

Another moment of silence. It knitted its brow. "She communicated with somebody else through...radio? Something about coordinates...in subsector 2?"

"Why subsector 2?"

"M4 fled towards the direction of subsector 2."

"Anything else to add?"

Skorpion knitted its brow again. After a moment, it mumbled, "...No?"

"I believe this wraps it up."

I got up from my seat and pushed my way out of the crowd. Murmurs and chatters erupted as soon as I left the Mess Hall.

**1915**

A horned silhouette emerged from the smoke and debris. It was alone.

Gunfire flashed on the screen. The tracer-rounds struck true, yet not a single bullet pierced the horned woman.

"Again, they cry like lost children."

The horned woman spoke clearly and audibly despite the gunfire. Its voice was frigid like desert night winds.

"Again, they hurl their lead pebbles fruitlessly against my wall of blood-drenched iron. How primitive. How futile."

A crack of thunder. More dust and debris. A bulwark of light fizzled slightly. Bullets sparked against the bulwark.

"Witness, insects of Grifon. Witness your helplessness in the face of our tireless engines of progress. Witness, despair, writhe in the dirt like the worms you are and be ground to dust."

Incandescence engulfed the sparks on its bulwark.

"I am the Agent of Master's Will, and Master wills your Death."

Statics. 'Signal Lost' interrupted the blackness of the screen.

"Won't you join us for dinner, Commander?"

I put down my pen and swivelled around. Springfield's metal tray carried a bowl and a mug.

"It is good to be diligent but you shouldn't neglect your meals."

It set down the tray on the central table. Steam rose from the food containers.

"...Thank you," I found myself uttering.

I glimpsed a crinkle forming at the edge of the T-Doll's lips. It fished out a bottle of Smirnoff from its apron pocket and placed it beside the tray. I spied my ticket taped to the bottle's neck.

Springfield winked. "A reward for good behaviour. I hope to see you in the Mess Hall tomorrow. We will be having bread bowl soup for lunch."

"No soup tomorrow," I replied. "We will depart for subsector 2 tomorrow, at 1030."

The T-Doll's smile remained fixed. "Then look forward to having bread bowl soup for dinner. You _will_ join us for dinner, won't you?" Its tone carried a hint of menace.

I replied with a hard glare.

"Indecisiveness is unbecoming of you." Its smile remained frozen on its face.

"...Yes."

Crinkle by its lips and under its eyes. "Make that your promise."

The room was saturated with the aroma of beef stew.

_Drink with me, Captain._

_|Pouring sound|_

_|Gulps|_

_|Glass clink|_

_Today's events had worn me out._

…

_|Drinking sound|_

_..._

_I had found the answer to the mystery that is Skorpion being disobedient. It...She was wearing ear-plugs. Likely since our encounter in the Nerve Center. When it was clear to...her that they do not suffice, she...what's the word...doubled-down by wearing ear protectors._

…

_Calling T-Dolls by the female pronoun. It will be a while before I get used to this._

…

_T-Dolls getting bored, defiant T-Dolls, T-Dolls who are gluttons, T-Dolls who love to tell stories, T-Dolls who laugh at their own lame jokes, T-Dolls who pressure me into doing things._

_|Drinking sound|_

_I made promises to these facsimiles of humanity. Referring to them with the female pronoun, treat them as though they are people, make requests of them rather than ordering them around, join them for dinner tomorrow. Today is a very accursed day. _

…

_I did get what I want out of Skorpion, at least. I suppose I should derive some joy out of this small victory._

…

_|Drinking sound|_

_M4A1, or rather, the intel it...she is carrying is the cause of this ruckus. She had fled into subsector 2. Finding her is to be my next objective. I know the 'what'. Now I have to work on the 'how'. How do I find M4A1 before the Sangvis?_

_..._

_This ringleader they call 'Agent' may be leading the search for M4A1. We are bound to run into it...her. The human staff and the T-Dolls utter her name with dread. She may prove to be the most daunting foe I have encountered in my lifetime._

_She possesses a shield of light. Yes, just like in the sci-fi movies. She also possesses a weapon capable of annihilating everything in its vicinity with a single shot. This weapon appears to have a charge-up time. This time, which I have yet to calculate, is the window we have to destroy her. She knows this, hence her light shield. _

…

_The light shield shrugs off multiple grenades._

…

_|Drinking sound|_

_I need a solution to this shield problem. M4A1 has the answer to that problem. I need to find her before Agent finds us. _


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_I awoke to find myself looking into Skorpion's single eye. It...she...cracked a grin, then scurried out the door._

…

_It..she brought breakfast. A single bar of Caloriemate and a mug of coffee. _

…

_|Sniffing|_

_|Sipping sound|_

…

_Same coffee as yesterday's._

…

_|Clattering sound|_

_Boss-lady will call me in thirty minutes. Another simulation. Compulsory training regimen. I will finish that by 1030, then join the convoy going into subsector 2. We are heading to this town designated as HVQQJ._

_Lousy name. I'm calling it Hevhj._

_|Muffled childish voice| Bless you!_

…

_Hevhj will serve as our subsector HQ. It is situated at the midpoint of the western edge of the subsector. Taking into account of the general terrain and the coverage provided by the location, Hevhj might as well be at the very center of the subsector._

_The town is located on top of a plateau, with only two ways in from the ground. The Northern Pass, which runs along the cliff's edge, and the Southern Road, which can be set up into a funnel. Easy to defend, if the enemy were to try to attack it from the ground._

_Looking at the movement of the Sangvis, I estimate four to five hours before they arrive at Hevhj…_

_|Muffled childish voice| Bless you!_

_|Sighs|_

_We will talk later. _

**1200**

"Siskin 1 to Command!" the radio sounded. "LZ's hot! Advise alternate LZ!"

"Team Skorpion to Command! If Siskin 1 can bring us closer to the hotel, I can light it up!"

I zoomed in on my command tablet's display and confirmed the viability of Skorpion's suggestion. The volume of fire coming from the hotel wasn't sufficient to disable the helo. At least, not quickly enough for Skorpion to do its...her damage.

"Siskin 1, make the approach. Skorpion, deploy your incendiaries once you are close enough. BAR, suppress the Vespids and cover Siskin 1's approach."

"What did you think I was doing, Commander?" shouted BAR from over the radio. "Sheesh! Another one of these and I'll have you take me shopping!"

"Shut up and shoot, Auntie!" Skorpion retorted.

"I'm not an Auntie!"

Conflagration devoured the red blips and the hotel which sheltered them.

"Command to Team Skorpion. Cover Team HK416's landing."

"Give me a break, Commander!" BAR wailed.

"Siskin 2 has landed! Give them hell, girls!"

Team HK416 took up positions behind the fountain in the Town Square, the outer walls of a stone house to the east and the steps of a church to the west.

"Team HK416 to Command. Covering Siskin 1!"

Tracer rounds flared up, thinning the rapidly closing red blips.

"Command to Siskin 1," I spoke into the radio. "Stay airborne. Reposition at the mouth of the Southern Road. BAR, cover Team HK416."

"Jeez! You are such a taskmaster, Commander."

I ignored BAR's complaint and continued. "Team HK416, block Sangvis access into the Town Square."

"Team HK416 to Command. Executing order. G11! Wake up!"

"Uwaaah….please...not so loud..."

"Team Skorpion to Command! I can use incendiaries to cut off the Sangvis advance!"

"Do it."

A literal firewall erupted and immolated the front-most row of the Sangvis formation. Team HK416, under the cover of BAR's suppression fire, rushed forward and took their positions in the houses overlooking the road. They then fired upon the Sangvis. The Sangvis Vespids slipped behind rusted vehicles and retaliated in kind.

"Command to Siskin 1. Land in the Town Square, now! Team Skorpion, move north and cover the Northern Pass."

"Siskin 1 has landed!"

"Team HK416, advance down the Southern Road. Clear the Sangvis blockade."

"Team HK416 to Command. Fire-wall has died. Making our advance. Out."

Thirty minutes. No activity at the Northern Pass. The battle at the Southern Road had ceased. "Team HK416 to Command. Southern Road cleared."

"Oi! You lot! Get a move on!" Lev shouted from behind my truck's flap.

Siskin 1 hovered over us throughout our thirty-minute journey towards Hevhj. As soon as our convoy cleared the gradual slope of the Southern Road, the last two trucks veered to the side. Ten Auxiliary Guardsmen disembarked from one of the trucks. They wasted no time forming a train to move sandbags between the second truck to the mouth of the road.

The convoy pulled away and continued towards the Town Square. HK416's mainframe unit saluted as my truck passed her by. G11's mainframe was leaning against her.

The shrieks of denting metal accompanied the engine-roar of the front-most truck. My fingers dug into my command tablet's screen. I felt nauseous and was glad that I had given lunch a pass. My truck jumped twice in quick succession. The bump we hit was that of a doll carcass, identifiable only by the weapon she wielded.

Dummy and Sangvis carcasses passed me by. Slumped against the walls or vehicles, crushed under wheels or by our convoy's approach. False skin charred, metal ribs jutted out, artificial innards splayed along the street.

The stench of ashes and soot assailed me the moment I disembarked from my truck. The hotel still burned. The flooring of its second storey collapsed as soon as I laid my eyes on it. Its orange linger briefly in my false eyes.

The rotors of Siskin 1 and the engines of the front-most truck faded as they continued on towards the Northern Pass.

The church to my right was a sturdy cuboidal structure, with two towers flanking its frontal face and a cross with an additional slanted bar on its dome. I slung my assault rifle over my shoulder and motioned at Lev. He nodded and elbowed a younger Guardsman. His name patch read 'Stefan Sokolov'.

We passed the dried-up fountain, walked up the stone steps and took up positions at both sides of the sturdy double-door. With some difficulty, Lev exposed a gap wide enough for a micro-drone to pass.

Ten minutes. The drone detected no activity. The two Guardsmen shoved open the door and crossed the threshold. After a brief survey of the interior, they signalled 'All Clear'.

Dust rose over our ankles as we cautiously crossed another set of rusting iron gate into the church's courtyard. The courtyard was brightly illuminated. Radiant sunlight streamed down through the gaping hole above us. The stained windows which lined the walls were shattered. Shards of various colours lay scattered at their feet.

Our flashlights beat back the darkness beyond the left side-door. A brief descent into the abyss led us to a chamber with niche-lined walls.

Lev's utterance carried a solemn air. Seeing that he wouldn't want to be disturbed, I let him be. I returned to the courtyard and called Pierre over the radio.

**1440**

_I had thought I knew what desolation was. This town taught me otherwise. There's dust everywhere, just like in Istanbul. There is dilapidation everywhere, just like in Istanbul. _

_However, Istanbul, despite its decay, had life. Roving traders seeking barter. Merchants manning their sorry stalls along Alemdağ Caddesi. Wives, mothers, daughters eking meagre livings. Rivals sniffing the streets for fresh blood and fresh meat._

_Here? No human life at all. At least, not until our arrival. A true necropolis. A town meant for at least a thousand souls bereft of any human life. _

_Yet, the signs of human residency are all around me. Rusted cars clogged the Southern Road. Doors ajar, creaking in the wind. Luggage abandoned at the doorsteps and sidewalks. Left there under the sun and sleet. If rot had not set in, if foliages had not overrun the cobbles, I would have thought the place frozen in time. _

_|Childish voice| Oi! Cetin! Why are you muttering to yourself over there?_

Skorpion grinned toothily. She was holding out her right fist. She appeared to be in good spirits, despite the foam-like sealant on her cheek, on the side of her abdomen and along her right forearm.

"What do you want?" I asked.

She shook her fist. "Fist bump! I did a great job, didn't I? So give me a fist bump!"

I looked at both my hands, then at her right fist, which was trembling in perceived anticipation. I looked at my hands again, then lowered my right and curled the fingers of my left.

"Oh...oh right!" Skorpion hurriedly dropped her right and raised her left. "Okay, here's what we will do. We will hit our fists together, lightly. Like this." She tapped her knuckles against mine. "We will both do this at the same time. I'm going to make it easy and count to three. Here goes!"

She counted to three, and we bumped our fists together.

"Mmmm, hmmm," she hummed while rubbing her chin. "Mmmm, hmmm, a little too forceful on your side. We'll do this a few more times until we get this right. Then we move on to more complicated moves. So!" She clapped her hands. "How did I do?"

She wasn't asking about the 'fist-bump'.

I looked towards the black smoke billowing from the centre of town, an hour's walk away.

"...Excellent job with the hotel and the Southern Road…" My eyes lingered on the T-Doll's battle damage. "Shouldn't you be getting repairs?"

Skorpion puffed her cheeks and answered, "We've got only one repair bay up and running. Tech's focused on running cables up to the cross. Besides," she smiled. "I don't feel right just letting you wander about by yourself." She then paced about. "What are you doing other than talking to yourself?"

"...I am getting the lay of the land."

The T-Doll stopped to stare at me. There was a sceptical look in her eye. I head to the cliff-edge and craned my neck over the ledge. "This part of the cliff here..." I pointed at the river's edge. A small strip of river-bank crossed under this section of the cliff. "...is gradual enough for our enemies to scale. A chink in our armour. The Sangvis might exploit this chink."

"So you are going to have mines laid here?" asked Skorpion. "I don't think the armoury and warehouse have enough claymores to cover this length of the cliff. I saw Kalin piling up a stack of requisition forms for claymores yesterday."

"What about grenades?"

"Entire aisle stocked with grenades," she replied. She paused, looking pensive for a moment, before continuing, "At least that's what I saw in the warehouse."

"I see…" I turned towards the stone house ten paces away. Its shattered window was facing the cliff. "Put a MG over there and even the Auxiliary Guard can repel Sangvis for a considerable amount of time."

I turned to see Skorpion staring at me intently. Her expression was inquisitive. "You are planning something with the grenades, aren't you?"

"Grenade traps."

A slight tilt to the left, furrowed brow and a frown. Her expression had turned into that of puzzlement. "What's that?"

The bird's chirpings were coming from the thatched roof of the stone house.

"Oh, I get it!" Skorpion hammered her fist against her palm. "It's like a rope with a bait right? Just with one end of the rope being connected to a grenade's pin?"

It wasn't a single bird. There were five distinct chirps.

The radio beeped.

"Hey, Desert Fox," Lev said. "We got the command room set up and ready for your inspection."

I gave my reply and turned towards the direction of the church. "Hey, wait up!" Skorpion pitter-pattered after me. "Tell me! Did I get it right? Am I right? Hey!"

**1630**

Static. It rang in my ears and bored into my skull. Faint impressions of a voice came out of the radio, like ghastly whispers from a medium's mouth. The phantom image of Kalina faded in and out of the eerie blue.

The falling metal chair added to the cacophony of the catacomb. I stumbled up the stairs, out of the iron gate and out of the side-door.

"Finally reached you, Desert Fox," said Pierre over the radio. "Problem with the reception, yes? Give me five minutes."

The static still rang in my head. I sank on the steps to the left of the side door, with my right palm against my head.

"Told you not to go in there," said Skorpion, as she extended to me a mug and a Caloriemate. I accepted her offerings and gave the coffee a sip.

Same flavour as the breakfast coffee.

"Springfield made that," said Skorpion as she sat beside me. The aforementioned T-Doll was at the north-side wall, behind a long plastic-and-metal table. She gave me a wink before returning to her task of directing Sten on kitchen-work.

"Anyway," Skorpion started, "Something to report. Papasha's done with the first barricade at the Southern Road."

"PPSh-41?"

"Pa-pa-sha!" The T-Doll pouted. "Cetin! Don't you get tired saying P-P-S-h-Forty-One all the time?"

"That's her official designation."

"You know her official designation is uncool! That's why we all call her Papasha, why everyone calls me Skorpion instead of 'Vz.61' and why you call this town by another name other than its official designation! HVQQJ, right? What did you call it again? Hijj? Hachs?"

"Hevhj."

Skorpion coughed out her coffee. She alternated between coughing and giggling. "Bless you. You sound like you sneezed when you say that."

Mug's shadow over the coffee's surface. I took another sip and started, "Why is Papasha putting up barricades?"

Skorpion sipped on her coffee, then held her mug over her thighs. "Papasha has heavy vehicles license. She operates the Power Loaders better than anyone in the base. She can do the work at half the time of any of the Auxiliary Guardsmen. Anyway, we are out of sandbags to build the second barricade."

I narrowed my eyes at the T-Doll. "What did Papasha do?"

"Well…" she averted her gaze and scratched her chin, "...before you tell her off and make her clean the helos, hear me out. You know all those cars blocking the Southern Road, right?" A glance before she continued, "Lev's got the idea of using them to reinforce the barricades. Told Papasha to stack the cars up three levels, he did. However…"

"...more sandbags are needed to stabilise the barricade." I took another sip of the coffee.

"Yep!" Skorpion nodded. "Three times more sandbags. So…" she passed me a note. It contained the estimated number of sandbags required to set up the second barricade.

"I'll talk to Kalina about it," I said.

"Promise you won't get angry with Papasha?"

"...I'm not angry."

The radio beeped. "Oi! Desert Fox!"

Skorpion broke into a snickering fit. Her giggles turned into a yowl. Her coffee had spilt onto her thigh.

"Think we have isolated the problem," said Pierre. "Have a crack at the comms and see if the interference's cleared up."

_The T-Doll, Skorpion, had become more loquacious since I made those promises to her yesterday. I had inquired Kalina on the matter and was told that she's just playing the role of my adjutant._

_Her being my adjutant is part of a scheme. Kalina's scheme? What does she hope to achieve by making Skorpion my adjutant?_

_.._

_Is she trying to shirk the responsibilities of an adjutant? No...she is still providing me updates on the situation of the other subsectors and is still passing my orders to the relevant departments of the FOB on my behalf. She hasn't abandoned her position. _

_What, then, is her goal?_

…

_Perhaps it wasn't Kalina's scheme, but Skorpion's. I recall M14 performing sentry duty without my input. Perhaps Lev or Kalina ordered her to take on the duty but I cannot discount the possibility that she volunteered. Especially in light of yesterday's bedlam. _

_If M14 truly did volunteer, then it's likely that Skorpion chose to take on the role of adjutant. If so, what is she trying to achieve, being my adjutant? _

_This T-Doll may be craftier than her childish appearance would suggest._

…

_No, she is crafty. She did, after all, concoct a method to subvert her programmed compulsion to follow orders. _

_What is she up to?_

_..._

…

_Putting that aside for later. Not much has happened since we claimed Hevhj. The Sangvis have been giving this town a wide berth. Either their Ringleader is mustering her force to assault this position or she's fixated on her search for M4A1._

_Until I know for sure this Ringleader has located M4A1, I suppose fortifying this position is the only option I have to pursue. _

…

_|Chuckles| The generator for this base is in this catacomb. The command equipment is in this catacomb. The heart and mind of this base are in this realm of the dead. _

_The irony isn't lost to me. _

**1850**

The rattle of the ventilation turbines greeted my return to the waking world. The catacomb was bathed in light azure, as it had when I laid my head against the padded wall. The chair creaked. Muscles strained and bones groaned. Kalina's shipping list on the screen. Tab out, series of clicks. A tap on the holo-communicator. No missed communique.

Out of the catacomb, with mug in hand. 1900. Chatters echoed throughout the occupied hall.

"My my," Springfield smiled as she passed me the tray containing the bread-bowl. "You kept your promise." I nodded at her as I collected my dinner.

"You are thinking about returning to the command room, aren't you?" she asked suddenly. I blinked. She continued to smile. "They are calling for you." Skorpion had stood up from her bench and was waving both her arms vigorously. "You should join them."

"No promises," I replied. Picked up the tray, walked against the direction of the queue, towards the eastern wall. Right-turn, pass the double gate. Empty table at the shadowed corner. Mostly empty. HK416 and G11 had occupied the far end.

"Desert Fox." Lev slid onto the opposite seat. His lips were curled into an amused grin. He wore that grin this morning when I briefed the Dayshifters of our incursion into subsector 2. He had been wearing that grin throughout the day, whenever we conversed face-to-face. "Got the grenade traps planted. Pending your inspection."

The milky soup was thick. Creamy.

"With me behind the wheel, we can get to the Northern Cliffside and back just in time for the 'Changing of the Guard'."

"Oi! Cetin!"

Skorpion dropped her tray on the long table.

"Why so angry, Skorpy?" Lev asked.

"He's been very rude! I waved at him for a solid three minutes and he just ignored me!" The mono-eyed T-Doll puffed up her cheek. "What's with the attitude, Cetin?"

"Wow." Lev whistled. "Rude, Fox. Very rude."

"Oi, Commander!" Ingram MAC-10, hopped onto the bench. Her right knee was over the table. Her grin reminded me of Dimas'. Irreverent and cocky. "Where's my praise, eh?"

The meat bobbing in the soup was false. Vat-meat. Just like yesterday's beef stew.

"Asking for praise from our Commander, Ingram?" Lev asked. "Feeling brave, aren't you?"

"He's been unfair." Ingram shrugged. "He praised Skorpion for her stunt with the hotel and the Southern Road, but he hasn't said a word to the rest of us who put in just as much, if not more effort. So!" Ingram grinned again. "Where's my praise, Commander?"

The plastic spoon tapped against the tray. "Why do you think you deserve praise?"

"Well…" Ingram let out a low, arrogant chuckle. "I led the charge, didn't I? Weaving from cover to cover, stabbing, cutting, shooting, clearing the way. Heh. The team would have stalled if it weren't for me, yeah?"

"You are a liability, Ingram."

Ingram's grin faded slightly. Her jade eyes were wide. "Pardon?"

"You are reckless. You, not your dummy, _you_ could have been beehived many times over. You kept charging ahead of the rest of the team. You had also given your mainframe unit away with your actions."

"What? What actions?"

"You know what I meant."

"You mean the stabbings?"

"Outside of smoke cover in clear view of the Vespids. I should be praising IDW and M14 for keeping you alive."

"What's tyat you syaid about me, da nya?" The aforementioned humanoid-cat T-Doll popped her head from under the table.

"You were fast enough to keep up with Ingram. You worked hard to draw fire away from her."

IDW's cat-like smile grew wide, exposing her fangs. She rubbed the back of her head as she exclaimed, "Nya nya! He praised me, nya!"

"Hey! Hey! Commander! What about me?"

"You took out the Vespids as soon as they leaned out of cover. Quick, precise response. Not a single missed shot. Ingram and IDW owed you their lives."

"Hehe, he just praised me."

"...Commander."

"Excellent spotting work, HK416. And tell G11 she did excellently with the suppression fire."

Ingram muttered something rude as she slinked away. Silence fell the moment she left. The T-Dolls had decided to cease their pestering, it seemed.

My plastic spoon sank into the bread bowl. The vat-meat floating in the soup was unlike what was served in the Kiev Hospital. Succulent, juicy. As though it was coated in a layer of fat. It was the same as yesterday's beef stew. How did Springfield accomplish this feat?

No echoing chatters for the past three minutes. Skorpion was grinning like a child menace. It dawned on me that hers wasn't the only gaze lingering on me.

I took one last gulp from the bread bowl and nodded at Lev. "Take me to the Northern Cliffside."

_2105\. The sun still peeked from behind the mountain. Strange to see it still up at this hour. The day is long in this country, it seems. _

_My fatigues are drenched. I can still feel the wires gnawing at my fingertips. My thigh felt as though,...what did the doctor call it...its muscle fibres had welded together. You know the sensation, right?_

_The Auxiliary Guardsmen, Stefan, Oleksiy and their leader, Lev. They were with me when I inspected the traps laid along the Northern Cliffside. They assisted me when I fixed the faulty traps, though, I feel that they were with me to judge me, to determine if this outsider is fit to be one of them. They had kept their distance. Took turns glancing at my general direction. _

_... _

_Of the twenty traps, less than half were properly set up. I had to disassemble them, readjust the pins. Not too loose, not too tight, just enough for a light brush to trigger the trap. Plant the anchor points five metres apart from each other, tighten the wires, make them taut. Just like what you had taught us. _

_I had wondered why the new blood complained so much about the lessons. Now that I had actually done the work, I finally remembered how tedious it is. Two hours under the desert sun. Seared skin and seared flesh. Scorching sand in our boots. Well, they didn't have it as bad as us old blood. They had the shade. _

_I missed so much in the past decade. That doomed crossing had robbed me of more than my limbs._

_I wonder if you would give me the passing grade for my current handiwork._

_..._

_Lev, Stefan, Oleksiy, they left about fifteen minutes before the 'Changing of the Guard'. 1900. Left three traps for me to fix. _

…

_I think I made a grave error when I interacted with the dolls. I got careless. _

_..._

_It's Ingram MAC-10. She came to me, seeking praise. Likely emboldened by Skorpion. Must have told Ingram about my complimenting her for her actions earlier today. I thought to criticise her recklessness. I thought I could make her leave if I do so. Then, I said too much. For a moment, I forgot I wasn't talking to the new blood, that I was talking to an android. I provided feedback for the entire team. _

_I have chased Ingram away but at the cost of pleasing the rest of her team. I may have opened the floodgates as a consequence. _

_...Is this Skorpion's plan all along? If that is indeed the case, what is she trying to accomplish? _

_I need to be more cautious about that T-Doll. She's not a child, she's an android. I must remind myself of this every hour, lest I be infected with the same sickness afflicting Kalina and the others._

…

_I dread to think what awaits me back in the church. I will remain here until the sun is gone. _

**2300**

"You shouldn't sleep here, Kommandir. Wake up."

The crickets sang. The gibbous moon hung high over the mountains. Auriga, Perseus, Big Dipper, they have returned.

"Come on. Get up, Kommandir. You shouldn't sleep here."

Grigori tapped at my shoulder again.

"You are exposed out here. The Sangvis could have sniped you from the opposite mountain. Come. Get up."

"Oi! Griga!" shouted Dimas from the nearby stone house. He was leaning against the MG on the sandbags behind the window. "Get the Tovarisch in here, yea? Can't have him catch a cold!"

Groggy steps through the dimly lit door. Nagant Revolver blowing at the flame.

"Is time to hang the pot, Babushka?" asked Dimas.

"Just a little more," said the T-Doll. Bright orange engulfed the cobwebbed room. "There!" she exclaimed as she put her blower aside. "Come, little Dimas! Let us make the Borscht!"

"You are littler than I am, little Babushka."

"No Borscht for you, cheeky Dimas."

"Aww, Babushka. Is joke! Is joke!"

Nagant turned around. Her eyes met mine and she burst into mirthful laughter.

"Wha...what is this? Commander! What is this?"

"What's so funny?" Dimas inquired, puzzled. He glanced at me and spat aside.

A loud clang. Water splashed on the dusty floorboards. He planted his right hand on the peeling wall as he stifled his laughter.

"Hey, Tovarischi, that's really rude to the Kommandir. If you keep doing this…" he started to guffaw, "I'm going to laugh too."

"But...but...Griga!" Nagant Revolver staggered towards us. "Hi...his face!" She produced a small mirror from her coat pocket.

The sunken cheeks in the mirror bore smudged whiskers.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_0200\. I had sent a team to the north-eastern edge of subsector 2. I expect to hear from them before noon-time. Their task is to survey the mountain passes connecting the highlands of subsector 4 to this plateau-strewn valley. Pinpoint every weak point on the cliff-faces, any which could easily collapse and bury the passes below. _

_This should cut off the Sangvis reinforcements trickling into this subsector. Buy us more time to locate M4A1. _

_The Sangvis may move against us as soon as the passes are buried. I will give our defenses another look-over, just in case._

_Other than the Sangvis presence in Hevhj, the same presence we had eliminated, there are no further actions taken against us. I had watched them from the command tablet and the tactical map. They are keeping their distance from this base and the listening posts. _

_This contradicts what I had seen of Agent. That Ringleader is the type to prioritise decapitating the snake. Perhaps a different Ringleader is in charge of this search?_

…

_Now there is the matter of locating M4A1. An echelon is kept in this base around the clock as a QRF in case the Sangvis show any sign of having pinpointed her position. _

_I prefer to be more proactive but we have neither the fuel for a thorough sweep nor the manpower to observe every village or town in this subsector. For now I have to rely on the listening posts. See if they could pick up any radio communique which may lead us to M4A1. _

…

_|Glass clatter|_

_|Metallic uncorking|_

_|Pouring|_

_A toast to our scouts. Suleiman, Ahmed, Celik, Erkan, Hasan, Fahri. We wouldn't have survived for as long as we did without you._

_|Sound of drinking|_

…

_You know, Captain. I envied our scouts. Still envied our scouts. They were free. Free to move without oversight, free to pick their fights, free to explore the city. Fleet-footed djinns, all of them. You had seen them. How they ran the obstacle course in the courtyard. How they navigated the sewers. _

_I envied their mobility, their adventurous spirit, their shrewdness, their boldness, their courage...so much to envy about._

_|Sound of drinking|_

_..._

_I used to write about their adventures, you know. Wrote it in this blank leather-bound book. You know the one. Yellow pages, brown leather, with a clasp. First dozens or so pages were covered in chicken scrawl. I had to rewrite those tales. _

_The story of that chase in the bazaar, the blending in with the Khorasani, the uncovering of these storehouses loaded with heavy ordnance…_

…

_Knowing what Istanbul's like, that book's probably ashes. Burned with the rest by our myriad adversaries. Bury us, bury our memory. _

…

_I'm the only one left, aren't I? The last of us. Our living memory. Once I am gone, nobody will be left to remember us._

…

_Is this why you ordered me to live, Captain?_

…

_|Sound of drinking|_

_|Metallic corking and clatter|_

_I should get back to work. _

**0707**

"Behold your God!" The cat nun T-Doll's voice echoed. Her arms were outstretched, eagle-spread. Her right motioned towards the cross behind her.

"His arm is with authority! Behold! His reward is with Him! His work is before Him!"

P7 swept her arms about like a dramatist on a stage.

"He will feed His flock! Like a shepherd!" She clasped her hands and placed them close to her chest. "He gathers the lambs with His arm! He will comfort those with young!"

"Yeah! You go, God!" Ingram thrust her fist upwards, towards the sunlight streaming down from the gap in the ceiling. "Protect those lambs!"

"Oi, Cetin!" The long table shook. Its surface dented under the force of my nemesis' incessant tapping. "Are you listening to me? Hey!"

Creamy soup spilled onto the plastic tray. My nemesis' face was red, her cheeks puffed. Noting that she had caught my attention, she deflated her cheek, leaned back, folded her arms and started, "As I was saying! You need to stop wandering around by yourself and sleeping wherever you please!"

"Morning, Fox. Skorpy," greeted Lev as he set his tray beside Skorpion's.

"Oi! Lev!" Skorpion planted her right elbow on the table. She leaned towards the Dayshifter captain. "What's the bright idea, huh?"

"What bright idea?" he replied as he slipped onto the bench. He took one sip of his soup, then smiled blissfully.

The table shook. More soup on the tray. "What bright idea?" she snapped. "You know what bright idea! You left Cetin at the Northern Cliffside!"

"Oh, that." He stifled a yawn. "I thought I told Griga to go look for Fox before I got on the helo." He then took another sip from his bowl.

The T-Doll shot up from her seat and faced towards the kitchen counter, north side of the Hall. She then waved both her arms. "Oi! Griga! Oi!"

P7 stopped and frowned. Skorpion's voice had overpowered her own.

"Awww," Ingram whined. "No more?"

Grigori's expression darkened, his torso deflated. Springfield, wearing a plastic smile, nudged towards our direction. He shrugged his shoulders, straightened himself and walked towards us. He then sat to my left.

"What, Skorpy?" he asked with a grunt.

"Don't give me that tone!" said Skorpion as she sank on the bench. Looking at her posture, she must had rested her right ankle on her left thigh. She rested her cheek on her palm and glared at the Nightshifter Captain. "Lev said he told you to go look for Cetin before he left!"

Grigori sighed. "Dimas and I did find him."

"At almost midnight!" Even more soup on the tray.

"I was there, I was!" Nagant Revolver yelled from the table behind me. "Found him at the Northern Cliffside! Made them Borscht, I did!"

"You heard her!" Skorpion cried furiously. "So what? What were you doing, taking so long? Sightseeing?"

"Sightseeing?" Grigori scoffed. "We had to walk. Ask Lev. He took the keys to the Jeep."

Lev stopped scooping his soup. "Ooops." He wore an embarrassed smile.

"Aaargh!" Skorpion held the side of her head, rocked back and forth. "I can't believe the both of you!" She shot me a glare. "Cetin! I am staying here around the clock! I insist!"

My spoon clattered against the tray. "Am I a child needing supervision?"

Just as Skorpion was about to utter her retort, the radio beeped aloud. "Damn it!" she swore. "Language!" I reprimanded as I picked up the device. It emitted FNC's voice. "Commander! Commander!" she cried urgently. "There's a strange T-Doll near here!"

The command tablet's screen lit up. Close to the left edge of the display, by the river, laid Hevhj. Four listening posts, each a kilometer away from town, formed its perimeter. FNC and FN49's blips were close to the third listening post, counting clockwise.

"Where is she now?"

"Already gone from sight! Ran south-east! Sixty degrees! "

Two swipes, a village on a hill by a forest came into view.

"QRF! Sortie!" My order echoed through the hall.

**0740**

Siskin 2's blip rapidly crossed the forest.

A sigh into the mic. Ingram had called again. "Ingram to Command. Permission to engage?"

"Command to Ingram. Follow HK416's orders," I enunciated clearly.

The manic T-Doll grumbled. "If I listen to her orders I'll be sitting in here all day being bored out of my mind," she said. "Come oooon! Give me the order to engage! I want some carnage!"

"HK416 to Ingram. Stop bothering the Commander," interjected the aforementioned T-Doll.

Some rude mutterings were heard before the comms was cut.

HK416 and Ingram, along with G11 and their dummies, were holding positions inside and around a stone house at the top of the slope on the south-eastern edge of the village. They were trading fire with the Vespids which were holding position in two houses to their south-east and south-west.

IDW and her dummies zig-zagged up the slope towards the south-western house. Three distinct energy shots were fired at them. One dummy took a glancing hit, another was struck in the right abdomen. Another intercepted the shot meant for the mainframe.

Five muzzle flashes from behind the IDWs. All shots directed at the T-Doll and her dummies ceased. The fire directed at HK416, G11 and Ingram lost intensity. Five more muzzle flashes. An IDW intercepted a single retaliatory shot.

Two IDWs crashed through the window. Another circled around, kicked down the back door and entered.

A meteor, followed by an explosion.

"Ingram! Go!" shouted HK416. With a cackle, the Ingrams leapt out of their covers and charged towards the smoke-shrouded gap in the wall of the south-eastern house.

A minute later, all hostilities ceased.

"HK416 to Command. Moving towards the village square."

"Siskin 2 to Command. Dropping Team Skorpion at village square. I'm seeing Scouts and Prowlers closing in from our four o'clock. ETA 2 minutes."

"Command to Team HK416. HK416, G11 and M14, take positions in the village square. Ingram, split your dummies and position them inside the houses flanking the street. IDW, tie the enemy down. HK416, fire your grenade the moment they form critical mass. Ingram, you handle mop-up."

"Mop up? Commander! Are you seriously ordering me to execute some boring mop up? Let me have some fun, you boring piece of…"

"Shut it, Ingram. Team HK416 to Command. Moving according to plan."

"Cetin! What about us?"

"Command to Team Skorpion, begin your search for M4A1."

**0817**

The Sangvis were testing the defenses of the village square. Vespids and Rippers pinned by G11s and HK416s at the south-west, IDWs and Ingrams tying up Prowlers at the south-east. M14s covered both approaches from the top of the roof of the southernmost house with ceaseless volleys.

Five Vespids shimmied along the eastern cliff's edge, heading northwards. One of them snapped back before falling onto the undergrowth below. The other four increased their pace.

"Siskin 2 to Command. Supplies dropped at village square. Returning to Camp Hevhj now."

Micro-drone feed clear despite the rising dust and hanging cobwebs. Skorpion had ripped open a yellowing wardrobe door. FNC was leaning over a window-sill. They were on the second floor of the manor.

Five loud bangs from the upper floor, reports of Springfields' rifles. Vespid blips along the cliff's edge winked out.

"This room's clear!" Skorpion shouted. "Hey! Babushka! MP40! How about your side?"

"Nothing but mouldy pots, Skorpy," reported Nagant. "Moving to the cellar."

"Roger!"

Skorpion hurried out of the door. FNC motioned to follow. She stopped at the threshold, then spun around towards a yellowing dresser. She swiftly picked up what looked like a hand mirror before hurriedly exiting the room.

A sip from the thermos-cap. Still unsure as to how Springfield makes her coffee. Flavour...a mix of bitter and sour with a hint of...something.

Twenty-one red blips entered the AO from the south-east.

"Springfield to Command," her voice emitted. "Twenty-one Sangvis have entered the AO, fast approaching, ETA ten minutes. There's a Sangvis Ringleader with them."

UAV feed centred on the Sangvis echelon. Zoom in. A horned woman. Swollen right arm, covered in obsidian plates. She wielded a long jet-black sword.

"It's Executioner. Commander, your orders?"

Feed scanning the rest of the echelon. Fifteen Vespids and five...Jaegers.

Chest tightened. Sharp pain in my right limbs.

_Moonless night. Cold sea behind, cold sand below. Ringing in the air. The pouring tracer flashes had ceased. Khadem lifted his head. A loud crack. Sickening crunch. Warm fluids and bone chunks splattered onto my back. Blood soaked the sand._

"Commander?"

Blood on my lips.

The Ringleader is a melee combatant. She should be disadvantaged if she fought on the open field. She must be aware of this, yet she was leading her echelon from the front.

Agent's shield came to mind.

_Whistles of mortar shells. Had to get up and run. Sand in my boots. Crack of thunder. Hot blood on my left cheek and shoulder, both mine and Hassan's. _

Tongue tasted iron.

Washed it off. Sipped on the coffee. Had to focus.

Had to concentrate fire on Executioner. Yet, can't ignore the Jaegers. Had to cut Executioner's minions down.

_Hassan crumpled onto the bloodied sand. Half his face was gone._

Can't allow the Jaegers to pick off my people while they busy themselves with the Ringleader.

"Command to Team HK416. Hold position. Lure Executioner in."

"Ja, Commander."

"Command to Team Skorpion. Springfield, hold your position in the manor. Rest, exit the village through the north-west. Circle towards the south-eastern road through the forest. Flank them once they funnel towards the village square."

"Team Skorpion to Command! Roger!" A pause. "...Cetin...you okay over there?"

"I'm fine. Command to all Teams. Snipers, prioritise the Jaegers, then the Vespids."

"Ingram to Command! Executioner will cut us down if we focus on her minions."

Another look-through the map. Narrow alleys between stone houses. Cluttered rooms and narrow corridors in Team Skorpion's micro-drone feed. Not enough time to set up in the manor. The alleys will have to do.

"Ingram, lure Executioner into the alleys. Hold her attention for as long as you can. Once her minions are cleared, draw her to the village square."

A cold cackle. "Finally!"

"Command to Siskin 2. Stand by for emergency extraction."

"HK416 to Command. Executioner has stopped at the end of the road. She's hailing us."

"Command to Team HK416. Hold fire."

"Team Skorpion to Command. We are in position, ready to attack on your mark."

"Hold for now. Command to Team HK416. What does she want?"

"Team HK416 to Command. She's asking if we had seen a T-Doll with black hair, skull bandana and looks like an airhead."

"Team Skorpion to Team HK416. That could be anyone! What weapon is she using? An M4A1?"

"...Yes. An M4A1. Team HK416 to Command. Orders?"

"FNC here! I think I saw some broken branches on the tree outside the window. And depressions in the weeds. Going to the cliff heading down into the forest. Think that's M4A1?"

"Skorpion to FNC. What? Why didn't you tell us earlier?!"

"Commander said to look for M4A1! I wasn't sure that's her!"

Humidity trapped between my face and my palms. "Command to Team HK416. Tell her we didn't find a T-Doll matching her description."

"But Commander!" FNC interjected. "I did see a T-Doll who looks just like her…"

"F.N.C." said Springfield gently, stretching each syllable slightly. Her tone carried a hint of menace.

Sensing the veiled threat, FNC yelped. "I'm sorry!" she said.

HK416 sighed. "That Dummkopf...Team HK416 to Command. Complying."

A minute later, the red blips departed from the village.

**0927**

I was made aware of the chill soaking into my palm when the third incessant beeping disturbed the silence of the grave. I lifted my flask and gave it a shake. Maybe ten millilitres of Smirnoff left inside. Soft clinks distracted from the beeps. The chair creaked. Brushed the dust off the fatigues. Pressed the button. Answered the call.

It wasn't the boss lady projected from the communicator.

The eerie blue glow accentuated the displeasure veiled behind Kalina's strained smile. The terminal on the holographic communicator displayed two missed calls, both from the FOB in subsector 1.

"How goes your morning, Commander?" she asked. Her smile was genial, but it did not match her veiny blue eyes. The chirpiness was feigned. She then emitted a false laugh. "Miss Helian has some urgent business, so I'm taking over for her."

That explained the absence of missed calls from HQ.

"Training regimen again?"

"Yep! I will be grading your papers today." Another feigned chuckle. "I may not be Helian but I'm not going to cut you any slack."

Skorpion's stamping announced her arrival. "Cetin!" she cried the moment she cleared the iron gate. Her smile and gesture were that of genuine jubilance. "We've returned safe and sound!"

"Skorpion!" Kalina folded her arms. "You are late! You are supposed to give him the training material by nine a.m.!"

The T-Doll pouted at the hologram. "I just got back from a mission, Kalin. Anyway!" She raised her left fist towards me, "I did well, didn't I?"

"No fist bumps. You didn't find M4A1."

"Awww…." she deflated.

"What's that about a mission?" Kalina asked. Her head was tilted slightly to her right. Her left brow arched upwards.

"FNC reported having seen M4, so we pursued her to a village to our south-east. Didn't find her but guess who turned up instead!"

"Alot of Sangvis?"

"No!" Skorpion exclaimed. "I mean 'Yes'! But that's not what I meant! Executioner's there too!"

"Executioner!?" A loud slam emitted from the communicator. "Did you say Executioner? Are you alright? How're the other dolls?"

"We are fine, Kalin! We are fine! All she did was ask whether we had seen M4. We said 'no'. Then she left."

"She left, just like that?"

"Yep!"

"What about Hunter? Have you seen Hunter?"

"No! Didn't see her! No idea where she's at!"

Kalina leaned back. She held her chin. "So that's why you didn't answer my calls. Still…two Ringleaders in just four days?"

I scoffed and stated, "We are bound to run into another Ringleader as we search for M4A1."

"Don't you find this whole thing strange?" she noted. "It's almost a year since anyone's encountered a Ringleader and, well, here we are. Two Ringleaders in under four days!" The logistics officer then frowned, "I mean, the Sangvis were pretty content staying put where they were for the past year and..."

"Hey, hey," Skorpion grumbled. "Kalin, do you have the memory of a goldfish? We already discussed this in the mess hall two days ago. This whole thing started after M4 took something from safehouse 3, remember?"

"Still...another Ringleader, and it's Executioner. Without Hunter. This is very, very strange."

I allowed the silence to linger for a moment before stating my request.

"Kalina."

Kalina blinked. Her fake smile crept onto her face again. "Yes, Commander?"

"Send me any intel Grifon has on both these Ringleaders. Executioner and Hunter."

"Right," Kalina nodded. "Anyway, Cetin." She dropped her smile. Her cheerful tone faded. "Don't rush, okay? We don't need to provoke the Sangvis even more than we already did."

"You know that is beyond our control. All we can do is shore up the bulwarks against the encroaching dunes."

"Oi, Cetin," Skorpion interjected. She was giving me a critical look. "'Shore up the bulwarks against the encroaching dunes'? That phrase is uncool! Really uncool!"

Kalina cracked a grin. "He's from the desert, Skorpy. He doesn't know cool even when he's experiencing hypothermia."

Skorpion showed me that unmistakable look of pity.

"I know what 'cool' is," I murmured.

"Anyway!" Kalina tilted her head slightly. "I'll be back after lunch. Just for today, I'm letting you off with tardiness. Just submit your exam papers before dinner. I'll cover the rest."

Before I could inquire about the 'exam papers', the hologram winked out.

"Give me a fist bump," Skorpion requested again.

I sighed. "No fist bumps. You didn't find M4A1."

I showed her my palm. The T-Doll cocked her head slightly. "What's this? Want a five?"

"No. Kalina said you are supposed to give me the training material. Where is it? You should have given it to me first thing in the morning."

Skorpion grinned in embarrassment. "Ooops."

"Where is the disc, Skorpion?" my voice rose slightly.

The T-Doll averted her eyes and rubbed the back of her head. She let out an uncomfortable guffaw, then replied, "I misplaced it."

"...You are a terrible liar."

"I'm not lying." Skorpion looked aside. Her shoulders shook with a nervous giggle.

"You are a T-Doll. You don't just _forget_ things. Your memory is saved data."

"I didn't forget the disc, I misplaced it…" Skorpion squeezed her index fingers together. "I mean, I heard from Nagant what happened last night and got so incensed so I just got off the helo and didn't bring the disc with me and…"

She glanced at me, looked at her fidgeting feet, then back at me again. "It's not like you actually need the training regimen...I mean, you aren't actually a rookie, right?"

"You are changing the topic."

"So what if I am?" Skorpion grumbled. "Cetin, I had been meaning to ask for a while. Why are you hurting yourself this way?"

"I'm not hurting myself."

She tensed up "Liar!" She then pointed towards my face. "You are hurt! You are bleeding from your lower lip!"

"Skorpion!" I raised my tone. "The disc. Please."

The T-Doll puffed her reddening cheeks. "No! I am not getting you the disc! You want the disc, you leave this hole and come to the helo with me!"

I opened my mouth to retort. Only silence came out.

The T-Dolls in the hall. They must be celebrating their safe return. Even dragged the auxiliary guardsmen into their tomfoolery.

Tightening in my chest. I could just hear their voices from here. The stories they would share, the laughs and jeers, the praises and barbs…

My eyes were false. Why do they burn?

Skorpion's pigtails seemed to droop. She said softly, "Hey. Promise you will join us for lunch."

"What if I don't?"

"Then!" Her pigtails seemed to perk up, "You go get the disc yourself!"

A heavy sigh. "...Fine. I promise."

Skorpion grinned toothily again. "Yay!" She pointed at me and exclaimed, "You better turn up! You promised!"

"I gave my word, didn't I?" I replied with a frown. "Get me my disc."

"Oh! Right! Back in five minutes!"

Her fading footfalls announced her departure, her return to the light. I sank on the chair and listened to the voices engraved in the walls.

_Breakfast was interrupted when FNC and FN49 reported sightings of a strange T-Doll which I assumed to be M4A1. Scrambled the QRF, tracked the T-Doll's movement to a village to the south-east...It's more accurate to say I predicted she went there, I think. As for why she fled from us, if she is M4A1, I have yet to produce a hypothesis. _

_It should be noted the Sangvis were already waiting for us in that village. From what I could see, they moved towards the village the moment I sortied the QRF. They had likely monitored our activities. Through their own UAVs, perhaps? _

_Their Ringleader also made her appearance. Executioner, they called her. Wielded a sword. A jet-black blade as long as a man is tall. An unusual opponent. Kalina mentioned she is usually accompanied by another Ringleader, dubbed Hunter. Just hearing these names, I suspected their usual tactic involved Hunter pursuing her prey into Executioner's blade. _

_I will know for sure once Kalina returns with intel._

…

_A Ringleader specialising in melee combat confidently striding through an open field. Perhaps she has the same bulwark of light as Agent? _

…

_She had asked about M4A1's whereabouts, whether we had seen her. FNC picked the worst possible timing to blab about having seen signs of M4A1's presence. An infuriating mistake, one I wouldn't tolerate in our men, was made by a machine. Imagine that. _

_I question the sanity of the one programming the T-Dolls. _

…

_Regardless, Executioner bought the lie of not having seen any signs of M4A1. That, or she didn't care about the signs and was only concerned about the T-Doll actually being present. I had expected her to attack us regardless but...instead...she just withdrew her forces. She had no reason to worry about irrecoverable losses at this time and yet she chose to withdraw._

_..._

_Perhaps her accepting our lie was less because she bought it and more because she is only concerned about M4A1 being present, in person. Maybe some arrogance was present as well? _

_She did seem to carry herself with arrogance. Agent certainly is arrogant._

_..._

_I suppose emotions aren't exclusive to Grifon T-Dolls. Are all the T-Dolls in this country like this?_

_..._

_Was arrogance why she hadn't brought along Hunter? Or was that part of another strategy?_

…

_I do not understand._

…

_Skorpion hasn't returned. I will ruminate on the Sangvis for the time being._


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**1050**

"Team FAL. M14. Cliff-top. Primary Vespids. Secondary Rippers."

M14 wordlessly unloaded into the advancing Sangvis units at the bottom of the cliff. The bitter-sour taste of coffee soaked my tongue. The enemy pulled away from the communications outpost. I enunciated my next order.

"Team Skorpion. East Forest. Face north."

The aforementioned echelon gave no reply.

The Sangvis cleared the outpost and concentrated their numbers at the bottom of the slope.

"Team FAL. FAL. Grenade. Team Skorpion. Skorpion. Incendiaries. Communications outpost."

Hostiles reduced to wreckage. Outpost in flames. Visuals faded, replaced with a bright yellow 'Mission Accomplished'. The battle result overview followed. Submitted the result to the laptop, extracted the disc, placed it atop the tactical map. Hevhj environs replaced the simulated battlefield.

Removed the headphones and looked towards the iron gate. Beside it leaned HK416. She unfolded her arms, straightened herself and saluted.

She was there for the past half hour.

"What do you want?"

"Just checking on you, Commander," she replied.

I placed the headphones on the stand.

"Your command style differs from usual."

Another sip on the bitter-sour beverage.

"All you have uttered are key-words."

"Key-words are sufficient enough for the simulation," I replied.

"Will you order us the same way?"

The thermos-cap hung under my hand. Its humidity seeped into my palm's skin. "No."

"May I inquire why?"

Last drink. I placed the empty thermos-cap on the desk beside its companion container. The ventilation turbines rattled, toiling to keep the staleness at bay.

"Skorpion would complain..." I filled the thermos-cap with more of the invigorating beverage. "...about treating T-Dolls as mere machines."

My reflection was barely discernible on the liquid's dark surface.

"Springfield...would insist on a conversation I rather avoid."

"I asked a serious question." HK416's jade glare bore into me.

"I gave a serious answer," I replied before sipping on my beverage.

The ventilation turbines continued to rattle.

She sighed. "I see. Why, then, did you choose to command as you did with the simulation?"

"They are robotic."

She cocked her head slightly. "Aren't we robotic too?"

A sharp snort. "I wouldn't be having this conversation with a true robot."

The generator hummed from deeper within the catacomb.

"You aren't really here to check up on me."

HK416 nodded in affirmation. "I wanted to hear your opinion on my performance earlier this morning."

"I barely needed to provide further instructions with you as team leader," I answered. "Even with Ingram's attempt to bypass the chain of command. This isn't your first time dealing with problematic personalities, is it?"

HK416 smiled ruefully. "No. It isn't. I take it you are satisfied with my performance?"

I nodded in affirmation.

Her smile assumed a self-assured quality. "Continue to watch over me, Commander, while I am here. I will continue to meet your expectations."

HK416's fading footsteps overlapped with Skorpion's approaching pitter-patters.

"Cetin!" she cried as she crossed the threshold. "Second breakfast!" She was carrying a metal tray.

The watch read, '11:00'.

"It's eleven," I said. The tray rattled as she set it on the tactical map. "Lunch is at 1300." The tray carried two plates of bread rolls, two steel mugs, two steel kettles, two spoons and multiple sugar packs.

"Don't sweat the details," she replied. She stuffed a bread-roll in her mouth. "Mmm..sides...mmmm...mmmm...not like we…mmm mmm mmmmph our break...mmm…"

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

The sound of chewing resonated throughout the command room.

"Don't eat too fast." I lifted the lid of one of the kettles. It contained milk.

Skorpion, her cheeks still stuffed, glared at me. The command room had quietened enough for the sound of draining tea to be audible. She rose slightly from the metal chair in an exaggerated display of swallowing.

"You should have taken smaller bites," I commented.

She shot me another glare. She then breathed deeply and repeated herself, "As I was saying, it's not like we had the time to finish our breakfast earlier this morning."

The tea smelled aromatic. Chamomile?

"You are supposed to drink that with sugar and milk."

I grunted and gave the beverage another sip. "Did Springfield send you?" I asked as I set down the mug. "Nah." Skorpion shook her head. She nibbled on the pastry, then continued, "I figured you should have finished the simulation at around this time and you aren't in a hurry to take a nap after drinking all that coffee."

"You could have eaten with the others in the hall." The vat-meat in the bread roll tasted like mushrooms.

"I don't want to leave you here," Skorpion replied. "I don't know what you have against celebrations but really, Cetin." She gestured at the walls. "Being here in such a tiny place with all the dead people is just too depressing!"

"...I'm not depressed."

"Sure, you aren't."

She picked up her mug, gave it a drawn-out slurp, before setting it down. "So, what did Sarge come down here for?"

"...Sarge?"

"416."

"She came looking for feedback on her performance."

The T-Doll narrowed her eye. "Oh. Ooooh." A mischievous grin crept up her lips. I quietly consumed my food.

As I stirred milk into my second serving of tea, the radio sounded. "Team -AL to Com-nd. Do -copy?"

"Command to Team FAL. Report."

"Te- FA- to Com-nd. Re-ort-ng succ-ssf- dem-litions of the passes."

I punched the coordinates into the tactical map. Plumes of dusty brown had shrouded the passes.

"We -e ret-rn-ng to base camp."

"Command to Team FAL. Understood."

I returned the tactical map view to the Hevhj environs. Clear of Sangvis activity. Switched to surveillance mode. Tactical map view zoomed out to cover an area of five kilometres radius of the base camp.

"Team FAL to Command. One last thing. We have recovered Sturmgewehr-44."

A metallic ring pealed in the command room.

_Skorpion had left the room. She ran like the wind. _

…

_No, not like the night wind blowing from the Channel. Like the wind driving the dunes into city streets._

…

_She had snatched my headphone to speak to FAL. Rather, she shouted at FAL. Asked about the status of Sturmgewehr-44. Where was she found, how she was, if she was injured, if she was delirious, if she needed the stretcher, those types of questions. Then she shouted for Papasha, requested to speak to her, asked her those same questions. _

_She ran out after that, shouting Ingram's name. _

…

_It was like the dunes had broken through her bulwark and washed away her reason. It appears she had been holding it in behind the smile and the mischief. _

…

…

…

**1210**

As soon as Siskin 1 touched down in the town square, Skorpion leapt down the steps and darted towards its opening hatch. Ingram shrugged before skipping down those same flights after her comrade. The hatch fully opened and out filed FAL, Tiss, Viking, FMG-9 and finally, Papasha, supporting a haggard blonde T-Doll clad in tattered military dress uniform.

Skorpion collided into the T-Doll's torso the moment she lurched off the ramp.

"Sturmgewehr! Sturmgewehr!" she cried.

Tightening in my chest.

"_Erkan, you look like you swam in blood!" Hasan cried urgently._

"Where have you been?"

"_What did you do?" _

The aforementioned T-Doll returned Skorpion's embrace and smiled in relief.

"Mission completed exemplarily," said FAL as soon as she reached the top of the steps.

"_Erkan fucked up," Celik reported. "We know where the stockpiles are, but we had revealed ourselves in the process."_

Ingram had circled around the seemingly dazed Sturmgewehr. "Hey~, Sturmgewehr," she uttered in a low tone.

"_Erkan! What did you...?" Suleiman cried in surprise._

The German T-Doll jumped in surprise. "...Ingram?" she squeaked timidly.

"_Ehhh...I used the wrong slang?" Erkan replied meekly._

"Commander?" asked FAL again. She had tilted her head slightly to her left.

"Submit your report by 1500," I replied. FAL saluted and proceeded into the church.

Ingram gripped Sturmgewehr's shoulder. "You have some gall. Disappearing on us for three days." She was wearing a discomfiting smile. Sturmgewehr giggled nervously.

"_The wrong slang? The wrong slang!?" Suleiman shouted incredulously. _

"Completed the secret mission," Tiss saluted. "Secret mission, secret mission," FMG-9 grumbled. "Don't mind her, boss. Everything is a secret mission to her."

"...Noted," I replied.

Ingram had wrapped her left arm around Sturmgewehr's neck and drilled her knuckles against the side of her head. Skorpion was shouting at her to stop. Papasha simply stood there, her hands to her mouth, glancing back and forth, undecided on what she ought to do.

"Freshen up," I said to the FMG-9 and Tiss. "Lunch in fifty minutes."

"Awwww, not even a 'good job', Kommandir?"

FMG-9 glared at Tiss. "Be quiet, you delusional T-Doll. I don't want to hear anything more from you for the rest of the day."

"I'm hungry~" Tiss whined as she strode past the double-gate, followed by her scowling companion.

"Papasha! Papasha!" Skorpion cried.

"_Celik! Damn it! Celik!" Hasan cried._

While she was trying to pry Ingram away from the squirming and wailing Sturmgewehr, Papasha stood at the sidelines, hands to her mouth, unsure of what to do.

"Help already, Papasha! Ingram's trying to kill Sturmgewehr!"

"_Help me already! Suleiman's trying to kill him!"_

Papasha looked to her left, then to her right, then to her left again. She then knitted her brow, frowned and hurriedly attempt to separate the struggling trio.

Nicholai had disembarked from the cockpit and was standing around the hatch. He was in communication with Pierre, who had slinked into the helo.

Papasha was tugging at Ingram's waist while Skorpion tugged at her neck. The patchwork T-Doll was losing her grip on Sturmgewehr.

"_Enough tomfoolery!" Captain boomed sternly. "Suleiman! Get off him and carry him to medical!"_

There were no clouds in the deep blue sky.

Springfield stood between me and the double gate. She was carrying two paper bags, one in each hand. One was filled with thermos. The other, neatly stacked plastic containers.

"My, leaving for the command room already, Commander?" she asked, with her usual gentle smile.

"...I am done here."

"No, you aren't."

"Sturmgewehr," said Skorpion suddenly from behind me. The aforementioned T-Doll wore a tired smile. A large strip of black leather wound around her left eye, deep cuts and exposed wiring at her thigh and shin. Stinging in my false eyes.

_Erkan gave me an excruciating smile. His blood-soaked hand was pressing a crimson gauze into his abdomen. "Hey, Cetin. Hey..." _

"Our commander, Cetin Yilmaz," Skorpion continued.

Ingram, who was lifting Sturmgewehr from under her arm, said with a sneer, "Don't mind him. He's a gloomy sort."

"Tovarisch Ingram, that's rude," chided Papasha.

"Yeah, he's a gloomy sort," Skorpion nodded. "But he's not a bad person. Really."

Sturmgewehr's smile grew strained. "That isn't reassuring." She cleared her throat, mustered whatever strength she still had and greeted, "Pleased to make your acquaintance." She looked at her coat and legs and smiled embarrassedly, "I'm sorry you had to see me in such a messy state...and…" she looked towards Papasha, Ingram and Skorpion. "...thank you. For taking care of them."

"_...Sorry. I fucked up."_

She then looked towards Skorpion. "You didn't cause him trouble, I hope?"

Skorpion averted her gaze. Beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. She wore a very nervous grin. "No...no! I had been a very good girl."

Sturmgewehr's tired smile faded. "...Skorpion..."

The pig-tailed T-Doll begun whistling. My throat tightened.

"Report to repair bay. Springfield?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"Get her something warm."

"_Cetin," said Captain. "The Khorasani will be expecting us. We need to hit them before they can consolidate their defences. We need to hit them tonight!" _

I motioned to enter the church. Springfield did not budge. "You can use a cup of tea. I recommend peppermint. It calms the nerves."

"...I had already drunk tea."

"Are you returning to the command room already, Cetin?" Skorpion frowned.

"I have to watch for any incoming counterattack."

"You brought along your command tablet, didn't you?" Springfield pointed at my pouch.

"It doesn't have surveillance mode."

"The FN duo are on patrol."

"We also have the listening posts and the guard towers," Skorpion stated. "Come on, get some fresh air! It's only thirty minutes until lunch!"

"On the subject of guard towers," started Springfield as she extended to us the paper bags. "Would you kindly take these to the Southern Checkpoint? It will be lunchtime the moment you arrive there."

"_Rest of you, get to the command room! We have work to do!" _

"...I really should return to the command room."

"Would you kindly take these to the Southern Checkpoint?" she repeated, still smiling.

"...You are going to keep doing this until I comply, aren't you?"

Her gaze was calm. That smile on her lips remained still. There was a hint of menace behind that smile, one which suggested she will broker no argument.

"Would you kindly take these to the Southern Checkpoint?" she repeated again, slowly, letting every uttered word sink in. With a shrug, I received my share of the paper containers.

Skorpion voiced her concern as she received her share of the burden, "What about Sturmgewehr?"

"We will take care of Tovarisch Sturmgewehr," replied Papasha with a nod. "Right, Tovarisch Ingram?"

"Yea..yea…" replied the aforementioned doll indifferently as she carried Sturmgewehr through the double-gate.

Springfield clapped her hands together and beamed. "There we have it. The thermos with the green cap is for the Commander."

**1300**

Sun, shade, sun again. Skorpion waited on the opposite side of the chasm. "Come on, Cetin!" She waved her free arm. "You can do this! You did this four times already!"

Groaning under my boots. My throat tightened. First step. Clutched the chain tight. Second step. Pounding against my ribcage. Third step. Laboured breaths. Hands around my wrists. Soft on the right, rough on the left. "Gotcha!" Lev said. He was wearing a smug grin.

The radio by the window beeped. "Lev. Lev!" Stefan cried in half panic. "What's going on up there? Where are you?"

Lev picked up the mic. "Yea, sorry about that. Had to catch Fox before he fell off the bridge."

"The Commander? What's he doing here?"

"We've brought Springfield's lunchboxes!" Skorpion lifted her bag.

A wide smile spread on his lips. "Stefan. Tell everyone we're having Springfield's handmade meals for lunch."

**1310**

_Stinging smoke. Sparks and swaying light. Captain...dead at my feet. Shattering bones. Snapping tendons. What weren't there had returned, only to be robbed from me again. _

_The false fingers contorted. The false foot trembled. Knives in both my stumps. _

_Yellow eyes gleaming in the steel-grey mist._

"Please, Commander," she beamed brilliantly. "May I have some more?"

"Leave him be," said Lev. "You are bothering him."

"Yeah! Leave him be!" Skorpion brandished her spork at M14. "You already had your share!"

"Ehe. Stingy. Stingy!" M14 skipped away.

"Why are you acting like a Brit, Yankee?" Oleksiy said as he stabbed his spork into his meat pie.

"Just want to bother the Commander, is all."

"Oi! M14! Who let you read Oliver Twist?"

"You lent me that book, Stefan!"

"Oh, right. Return that book already!"

M14 stuck her tongue out. "No! I'm not done with it yet!"

"Cetin." Skorpion tugged on my left sleeve. Concern shone from her good eye. "Did M14 do something to you?"

My throat throbbed painfully as I attempted to reply. It felt as though dust had clogged my airways. Relief flooded my throat like desert rain as I gulped down my tea. "...What makes you think that?"

"You are sweating something fierce."

"It is a hot summer day."

She pointed upwards at the canvas hanging over us. "We are under the shade!" She then pointed at the revolving table fans on the crates in the centre of our circle. "We have fans blowing at us! Also…" she turned her finger towards my nose. "...you barely breathed!"

My eyes flickered towards the steel plank bridge between the houses, to my right. "...I am still recovering from crossing the bridge."

"That was fifteen minutes ago!" Skorpion noted. "Also, you are holding your thermos too tightly!"

My right fingers, wrapped around the thermos, were contorted backwards at unnatural angles.

_"Slowly inhale. Count to three. Now exhale...smoothly..."_

His words repeated in my head like a mantra.

My grip slackened after the tenth repetition. The false appendages had sunk impressions into its surface.

"I'm fine," I breathed.

"You are not!"

"Oh, come on!" Lev said as he stood up. He came over to my side of the circle and sat on the ammo box beside me. "Not you too, Skorpy!"

"Look at him, Lev!" Skorpion gesticulated at me. "Look at him! He's not doing well and he still won't say what's bothering him!"

"Give him some space. What he's got…" he smacked my shoulder, "you can't force out of him. He will talk about it when he's ready."

Skorpion's puffed cheeks showed her dissatisfaction.

"Also," Lev glanced at the meat pie in my lunchbox. It was carved at the edge. "You better finish that fast, Fox, or M14's gonna bother you again. If not her, then FNC."

"...I'm not hungry."

He laughed dryly. "That's why you are so lean! What have you eaten up till now? One-tenth of Springfield's soup, one, maybe two bars of Caloriemate?"

"...I had second breakfast."

"And what's that you had for second breakfast?"

"Bread roll and tea!" Skorpion interjected.

"You aren't going to put on any weight if you eat that light all the time, especially in this business. Come on!" He smacked my shoulder. "Eat!"

The crust's feeble resistance gave way the moment I applied more force onto my spork. Its upper layers flaked away as it split and spilt its greasy contents onto the lunchbox. Its oil dripped as I scooped it up and consumed it.

Juicy. A hint of spice mingled with the pepper. Flavour had soaked deeply into the false meat.

"Just like the real thing, eh?" said Lev as he cut away another portion of his meat pie. "Having tasted Springfield's cooking, I can see why Griga's thrilled to have her with us."

He indulgently chewed on that portion of meat pie.

"...I see."

"Ah!" M14 looked up from her thermos cap and uttered suddenly. "FNC and FN49 are here." Their jeep was parked beyond the barbed wire between the barricades.

"Oi! Oleksiy!" said Lev. Oleksiy wiped the flakes off his beard and uttered, "Yeah?"

"Let them through."

"What?" Oleksiy's tone was of protestation. "Why is it always me? I let them out, I let them in, I let them out and now you want me to let them in again?"

"You are always the closest to the barricade." Lev pointed his spork at Oleksiy before stabbing it into his meat pie.

Tea dripped from the fringes of Oleksiy's moustache. "No more! Not this time! Ask Stefan to do it!"

The jeep's horn blared. "Oi! Guys!" shouted FNC from the ringmount. "We are starving! Move the fence!"

"Don't keep them, Oleksiy." Lev pointed his utensil at the aforementioned Aux Guard again. "You know how FNC gets when she's starving."

"I will bite your hand if you keep us for another minute! I'm starving, guys!"

"Fine!" Oleksiy put down his lunchbox. "This is the last time!"

"Next time, don't be the closest to the barricade. Haha!" Lev laughed heartily before shovelling another chunk of his meat pie into his mouth.

Oleksiy, with a grunt, got up from his seat, turned around and took five steps towards the barricade. He lifted the unanchored end of the barbed wire fence and retracted it. "Thanks!" shouted FNC as the jeep roved through. It swerved to park at the side of the street.

FNC grabbed her carbine, leapt off the jeep and skipped twice towards Oleksiy. She extended her hand, showed her palm and wriggled her fingers. Oleksiy shrugged and placed a thin, wrapped bar in her open palm. She ripped into the wrapping without delay.

FN49 had gotten out of the driver's seat and was standing behind FNC. She gripped her rifle tightly and fidgeted in an oddly timid manner. "Ummmm... FNC?"

FNC, mere moments from gnawing at her bar, looked back and asked rudely, "Yeah?"

"It's lunchtime, right? There's food waiting for us, right?"

Skorpion brandished a lunchbox at them to emphasise FN49's point. FNC completely ignored her. "Yeah. So?"

FN49 chuckled nervously. "Don't you think...you should keep the choco for after lunch?"

"Mmm…" FNC mulled for a moment. "Okay!". She tucked the bar into her pocket and skipped towards our position.

"Good job out there," greeted Skorpion as she passed the lunchbox to her. "Here's your share."

FNC opened the container and beheld its content. "Ehhhh…" she uttered her dissatisfaction. "Just a meat pie?"

Skorpion lightly swung her right foot at FNC's shin. It missed by a hair. "Correction!" she proclaimed. "Springfield's meat pie!"

"But the portion's so small…" FNC muttered. FN49 lifted her right fist to her mouth and giggled in a strangely nervous fashion. "Good thing you kept the choco, right?"

FNC pouted. "...I was saving that for patrol…" She suddenly perked up. "Oh, I know!" I did not like the look in her eyes. I gave my preemptive answer, "No chocolate. You didn't find M4A1."

The T-Doll puffed her cheek. "You're a bully, Commander!" she heckled. "Bully! Bully!"

"Oh!" Lev sighed as he set down his spork. "You too, FNC?"

FNC pointed at me and exclaimed, "He's a bully, Lev! He won't let me have my choco!"

"Leave him alone." Lev tucked his hand into his pocket and retrieved a bar of chocolate. "You can have my choco."

She wore a look of disgust the moment she saw the brown wrapping. "Ewww, choco ration."

"Take it or leave it."

"Fiiiiiine!" FNC snatched the chocolate ration from his hand. "I'll take it!" She then pocketed it.

"Seriously, that girl." Lev shook his head. He picked up his spork and stabbed it into his meat pie. After consuming that portion of foodstuff, he pointed his utensil at me and asked, "Skorpion took you on a tour along the Southern Road, yes? You've seen we did to the place? How'd you like it?"

Glanced back. The vehicles, two-wheeled and four-wheeled, were pressed into the houses and alleys flanking the street. Papasha's handiwork. Nowhere to go but up and down. No cover to duck behind, no place to hide.

Bridges connected the houses on both sides of the road from the second storey, allowing passage without exposing one's back to the attackers. Steel plates behind the windows exposed narrow vertical slits.

Only three ways into the rows of houses: the knocked down holes in the walls facing the village square and this one door to my left. There were demolition charges planted at the bottom of the stairs. Trigger mechanism on the second floor right beside Lev's radio.

"You've set up a funnel and a means of exit without exposing your men to enemy fire."

Lev smiled. "And what else?"

"Overlapping fields of fire from the second floor. No blind spots."

"Don't just say stuff right out of a field engineer's textbook," Lev said. He wasn't satisfied with my feedback. "Come on. Say something more."

Taste of peppermint wet my tongue.

M14's dummy on the roof. It got there from a rope ladder beside the door. "Rope ladder to the roof from the street. No alternative means of entering the house. How's she supposed to withdraw safely after covering your retreat?"

"Don't mind! Don't mind, Commander," M14 cried. "My dummy and I can just jump across the gaps during our retreat."

"I see…"

M14 got up.

_Steel-tinted smoke. Swaying lights. _

"Leave him alone!" cried Skorpion.

A loud clatter. Skorpion, her back towards me, arms outstretched. She had sprung from her seat to obstruct M14.

_Captain dead at my feet._

"But Skorp!" said M14 irritably. "He won't comment about me clearing that gap with a single bound!"

_Skorpion in my left hand. Raise the gun. Yellow-Eyes square in the sight. Still. Uncaringly still. Mocking contempt in those yellow eyes. _

_Pull the trigger. _

"Of course he won't!" Skorpion retorted. "He's seen your moves earlier today! Us clearing gaps like that shouldn't surprise him anymore!"

A loud grumble. "Hmmmph!" M14 returned to her seat. She folded her arms, crossed her legs and looked away. Her red cheeks were puffed. She was pouting.

"Hey, Fox," Lev called.

My torso rocked forward. The lunchbox remained secured on my lap.

"Don't forget to breathe, alright?"

_|Glass clatters|_

_|Uncorking sound|_

_|Pouring|_

_|Gulping sound|_

_|Glass clatter|_

…

_Today turned out to be more trying than I had envisioned._

_Used to be I can relax after an operation, if everything went well. Instead, today, I ended one struggle only to stumble into a different one, inside what should be safe haven. _

…

_I saw you again. Captain. I saw our scouts too. At the town square, at the Southern Checkpoint. Erkan's bullet wound. Your empty eyes...staring up at me. Your blood pooling under my foot and around the wheels…_

_I saw those damned Yellow-Eyes again. _

…

_|Sound of pouring and gulping|_

_I should have been firmer with Springfield. Defy her. She's a T-Doll. It's not right I marched to her beat._

_And M14. And Skorpion. _

…

_Lev. Skorpion. They suspect. Perhaps they already knew. _

…

_Not Skorpion. I don't think she understands. Lev, however...he does. _

…

_They knew something's wrong with me. Perhaps Springfield too. Why won't they leave me alone? I don't belong out there, Captain. I belong to the past. I belong to Istanbul. My place is among the dead. _

…

_No more promises. This has to end._


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

…

…

_|Sighs|_

_The enemy won't wait. I am fine. I can do this. _

…

_Right._

_Kalina's intel package both illuminates and obfuscates._

_Executioner. Hunter. They hunt in packs. The hawk and the hound. Hunter flushes, harries, drives the prey towards Executioner's waiting blade. _

_Hunter and Executioner. Apt designations._

_Certainties. Uncertainties. Start with the certainties._

_Certainties. Executioner and Hunter are dogged pursuers. Single-minded. They did not respond from having their reinforcements cut off. Executioner...simply left when she realised we hadn't found M4A1. _

_M4A1. They are after M4A1. M4A1 would take shelter in settlements and forests. The battle for M4A1 will be waged in settlements and forests and the open fields surrounding it. M4A1 will draw them in._

…

_Hunter. Her acrobatics is her strength. Her movement options must be limited. We must use the towns and villages as our battleground. Force her to move into restricted terrain. Grenades, machine gun fire. Saturate the air with lead and explosives. If she darts into the alleys or buildings, cover the exits and flush her out with grenades. She needs to be boxed in, cornered at every turn._

_The impediment for this tactic is the minions she will bring with her. They need to be funnelled. Best to hold position in the closest of quarters until the minions are dealt with. _

…

_Executioner. She fights with sword and pistol. Pistol...accurate up to two hundred metres. Sword...generates shockwave capable of cutting through her foes from that same distance. _

_Her minions must be dealt with quickly, and she has to be encircled. Her attention must be drawn to a singular target whilst her minions are dealt with. _

_Uncertainties. Close combat? Keep distance? _

_I must ruminate on this further. _

**1545**

"FAL! What are you doing?!"

Skorpion's shouting overpowered the audio, despite the headphones. FAL, leaning against the tactical map, calmly continued her reading.

"I said, what are you doing?" Skorpion demanded. FAL glanced up towards the shorter T-Doll, then continued to ignore her.

She slammed a stack of papers right beside her. "Hey! FAL!"

FAL lowered the notes in her hands and frowned. "I should be asking that question, Skorpion."

Skorpion placed her hands against her hips and puffed out her chest. "As his adjutant, I have every right to be here!" She then pointed at FAL and demanded once more, "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Looking through his strategies and compiling a list of criticisms," FAL replied as she put down the papers in her grasp. "Once he stops engrossing himself with his visual references, I'm going to levy my criticisms at him."

"He's busy!" Skorpion pointed out. "Don't disturb him!"

"That's no excuse," FAL commented. She sighed. "Declaring yourself his adjutant. How shameless."

"What did you say?" Skorpion snapped.

FAL sneered, "You did an incredible job being his adjutant. Letting him get away with such rude behaviour. Did you know he had me waiting on him for the past forty-five minutes? Are you going to let him get away with this?"

She paused, her eyes on the pig-tailed T-Doll, awaiting her response.

"I'm trying to do something about this, alright!" Skorpion declared. "He's injured! Injured! He needs time!"

FAL clicked her tongue. "Excuses, excuses." She shook her head and shrugged. "Maybe that's all a regular T-Doll can do. Perhaps...an Elite T-Doll such as myself should be his adjutant. I will fix him for sure. It won't even take me a day."

Skorpion trembled. Her fists were clenched tightly, her tensed arms stretched downwards. Her cheeks puffed, her face was red. "Wh...why you!"

The audio paused. The chair creaked. Both T-Dolls ceased their bickering. They blinked once, twice, then started a different commotion.

"Commander! I had been waiting for over forty-five minutes!"

"Cetin! Why did you let this mink disturb you as much as she pleases?"

Moments passed. No further words were uttered. Silence broken by rattling turbines.

A twitch on FAL's brow. She turned her attention to the notes clutched in her hands. "From reading these, I have the impression you had forgotten you are commanding fine T-Dolls like myself."

A pause. Her right brow twitched again. Skorpion turned an anxious gaze towards FAL. She then inched towards her and elbowed her lightly.

FAL, ignoring Skorpion, continued. "Hunter's movement will throw off human combatants, yes, but we aren't humans. We are T-Dolls. Her fancy maneuvers won't work on us. We will nail her, one hundred percent, assuming no weapons malfunction. I guarantee it. The time she spent airborne is enough for us to calculate her landing three times over. In fact, we can nail her like a duck the moment she takes to the air."

Two more elbows from Skorpion, more frantic this time. FAL slapped away the third elbow. "As such, your tactics for dealing with her is counter-productive. Your proposed battleground gives her cover to duck behind and blind corners to exploit. She's going to hop and prance from alley to alley and catch us from behind. It will be a circus! Less than ideal! Take the fight to the plains, catch her in the open, encircle her and she's foie gras."

Another pause. Another twitch. The notes crumpled in her grip as she folded her arms. "You are not going to say anything, are you?" Her words were critical.

No replies uttered.

She slammed down my notes. A white mink, curled up on the tactical map, jolted awake. FAL turned up her nose and strode for the iron gate. Two steps. Three steps. She paused and glanced back. "Fel! Come!" she said sternly.

The animal bounded across the equipment and leapt onto her shoulder. With an upturned nose, she ascended the steps.

"Hey, Cetin," said Skorpion, tugging my sleeve. She appeared to have shrunk. "FAL didn't do anything to you, did she?"

"...She didn't." My reply was reluctant.

Her head drooped as she released her grip. She wore an uneasy smile. "I'll just leave Sturmgewehr's testimony here."

**1715**

Five minutes. Springfield still wore that inscrutable smile, unaffected by my silent glare. She stood firm at the opposite end of the tactical map, arms folded, unyielding like the wind-scoured walls of old Nineveh. Skorpion, her visage cast in eerie blue, looked back and forth between us. She was fidgeting with discomfort and silent distress.

"Care to explain your string of poor behaviour, Commander?" Springfield inquired with a matriarchal tone. "Springfield…" Skorpion started and was immediately shushed. "Let him speak. I must hear from him directly."

I offered no answers.

Her shoulders eased, though her arms remained folded. "These had to do with what transpired before and during lunch-time, isn't it?"

Another pause. Another minute trickled.

"Sturmgewehr and M14 dredged out some unpleasant memories, didn't they?"

Another minute of silence.

She sighed. "Your wound isn't going to mend if you keep quiet about it, Commander."

"...I have to return to my work."

"This _is_ about your work, Commander," Springfield replied insistently. "I understand you ran into difficulties coming up with countermeasures against the ringleaders." She looked about, her gaze rested over several piles of scattered notes layered around the corners of the tactical map. "You still haven't made any headways."

"I have developed tactics against Hunter. They are in need of refinement but I'm confident we will come out on top of our inevitable confrontation."

"My, but can you say the same with Executioner?"

Silence broken by rattling turbines. She continued to smile. I answered reluctantly, "...I still need more time."

"Time you may not have, Commander."

Another moment of silence.

"Errr, Cetin?" asked Skorpion, hesitantly. "About the tactics against Hunter...does it have anything to do with what FAL said?"

She had cocked her head slightly to her right.

"Yes, I had taken FAL's input into consideration."

"Then!" Skorpion's eye lit up. "If we ask the others, maybe we can come up with something against Executioner? Ingram's an expert in CQC. She might know what to do about that big sword. MP40, I think, may know a thing or two about fighting at close quarters…"

"It's clear what we should do, yes?" Springfield clasped her hands together and beamed.

"Yeah!" Skorpion shot up from her chair. "We go topside, get everyone and put our heads together! We will figure this out before the day's end!"

Sporadic radio static. The chair creaked. The dolls' shadows still on the azure-lit padded walls. Skorpion's jubilance frozen on her face.

She pursed her lips tight and pouted. "Cetin! Say something! You are making this awkward!"

The chair creaked again. Skorpion grumbled.

"Commander," said Springfield, as she walked around the tactical map. The chair clattered. "Our every action hinges on your command. Our lives hinge on your command. If you give us the wrong command, the wrong orders to follow and the wrong battle plan to adhere to, we will fail at our objectives." A faint coffee scent. Shadow fell over her green eyes. She was frowning. "We will die."

Phillipes' gurgling cry amidst the radio static.

"_Cetin...we are on our last legs."_

Captain…

"_They did a number on us."_

"Our success and our lives are in your hands, Commander."

A gurgled cough over the radio. The turbines rattled. Skorpion watched intently. The false fingers twitched.

_Captain. Dead at my feet._

"I'm trying. I just need more time."

"Time isn't mine to give, Cetin. Counsel, on the other hand, I can provide." She straightened herself. Her smile was wistful. "However, my counsel is not enough. My engagements had been at range thus far. The others, however…"

"That's why we should go topside!" Skorpion wrung her right arm. "We have to ask the others too!" She slapped her palm against her 'sternum'. "Don't worry! I'll protect you from all the bad things! M14, no, nobody will hurt you while I'm here!"

"Skorpion…" Springfield strode towards the aforementioned T-Doll, placed her palms on her shoulders, kneeled down and stared her in the eye, "Don't go picking fights, understand?"

Skorpion recoiled. A twitch at the left edge of her grinning lips. "I...I won't. I won't!"

"Good girl," Springfield said as she stood up, wearing that usual smile again. "So, Commander, what are you waiting for?"

"...I will collect the materials…"

"Oh! Let me help!" Skorpion offered.

"Call Pierre and ask if he has a projector or similar. Then collect the disks. I'll take care of the notes."

**1930**

"_Hey, Cetin."_

_Strong fingers dug into my left shoulder. Torso rocked against the woven chair._

"_Cetin. Commander. Wake up."_

_Suleiman was smiling. His cheeks were wrinkled and marred by sun-spots, despite his age. He smelled of coffee._

"_It's already five a.m. Come on. Wake up." _

_Clay mug thrust into my left hand. Caffeine aroma wafting about the room. _

_He pulled back, still smiling. "There's more on the table." He gestured at the steaming pot resting atop the marked maps. "Enjoy as much as you can," he said as he rested his long rifle against his shoulder. "It'll be a while before I return to make more."_

_There was cinnamon in the coffee._

"Getting lost in your head again?" A rough shove against my shoulder. Grigori had seated himself to my right. "Quite the food for thought you had served us for dinner here."

The T-Dolls were paying rapt attention to the battle playing on the projector screens lining the cathedral's northern wall. Their usual raucousness was curiously absent. FNC, who would usually be pestering Sten or any of the Auxiliary Guards for chocolate, was silently sucking on her spoon. Nagant, seated beside Dimas, hadn't said a single word about midnight supper. Ingram had yet to complain about boredom or leave to skulk somewhere else. Instead, she was observing Executioner while chewing on a pen, stopping every so often to scribble onto a piece of paper.

The only one who kept with her usual habits was G11. She leaned against HK416, her torso rising and sinking with a slow rhythm. She was fast asleep.

"Coffee's meant to help us through the graveyard shift," Grigori started. "You sure you should be drinking?"

"Let him drink," Lev, seated to my left, replied. "He doesn't look like he wants to sleep tonight anyway."

"Oh, he will sleep," Grigori commented. "I found him sleeping by the Northern Cliffside. Though he hasn't slept at all after I woke him up, while I was around."

"That's a nap!" Skorpion, seated in front of me, turned around and exclaimed. "He has naps! One or two hours per session!"

"You are saying his sleep cycle is fucked?"

"Says you," Lev scoffed. "You sleep during the day."

Grigori glared at him. He sup on his coffee and set his mug down. "I still get between six to seven continuous hours of sleep. Also, why are you still here?"

"As a senior member of the Grifon Auxiliary Guard Corp, I am obligated to be here." Lev sup on his mug. "Been here for a while. Seen things. Might be of some use."

"Uhuh, so, what? Planning on a sleepover?"

"Nah," Lev shook his head before sipping on his coffee again. "Nicholai's giving me a lift back."

"You sure you should be drinking that?"

"Funny you ask when you know, better than anyone, that pulling an all-nighter's a small price to pay for Springfield's coffee."

"Yeah!" Skorpion agreed. "You left us late this morning just for her coffee!"

"Damn, Skorp," Griga grinned. "How did you figure me out?"

One more sip of the coffee. Let the cinnamon linger upon my tongue. Return to the screen.

Six T-Dolls, surrounded by cuboidal blocks five storeys high. Low-cost residences. Khrushchyovka, they were called. They were retreating southwards down an alley. Rippers closing in from the north, east and west.

One of them sprawled across the alley, coolant fountained from her head and torso. Her comrades turned their weapons towards their assailant. Tracer fire struck nothing. The assailant, Hunter, had darted into the Khrushchyovka to their right.

Another T-Doll crashed against the wall. The four Grifon dolls shot into the building. Down the corridor, if I recalled the layout correctly. Flashes of energy bolts coming from the north. The Rippers missed their shots. The T-Dolls returned fire as they retreated southwards, towards the street.

The first to reach the alley's mouth was bisected in half. The remaining three turned their weapons towards Executioner. Impact sparks on her right arm. She seemed unconcerned.

Another T-Doll fell. One of the remaining dolls fired a burst at Hunter. Her shots struck one of the advancing Rippers instead. Executioner turned her blade sideways towards the alley. One stroke. The resultant shockwave tore through the last two dolls and three Rippers which had entered the 200m range.

"Took my sound advice, I see."

FAL had taken her seat directly in front of me, blocking my view of the screen. She was calm, her shoulders relaxed. She wore a smug smile, completely unaffected by Skorpion's glare and scowl. Her mink leapt off her shoulder and onto the table.

"As you can clearly see from the vids, trying to corner Hunter in the settlements is playing to her strengths. Not a single shot managed to graze her, none at all. Denying her cover to hide behind is the optimal choice."

The rodent stood on its hind legs, placed its paws on the mouth of the bowl and sniffed at its content.

"FAL! Your pet's snitching Cetin's dinner!"

"Ta Gueule, Skorpion! I'm trying to educate our Commander here!"

A sharp whistle from my left. Fel reared up, looked towards Lev for a moment, then scurried towards him.

Skorpion still glared at FAL. She sneered back before returning her attention to our discussion.

"Deny her cover, cut off all avenues of escape and we will catch her no matter where she goes. We will nail her like a stuffed Toulouse!"

Cinnamon soaked my tongue. Mug clattered against the bowl. "You are too fixated on the Ringleader…" the spoon dug into the stew, "...and have failed to account for her minions. Jaegers, Dinergates, Scouts and Vespids. You will be up against them with no cover, no place to hide. You will be nailed like a stuffed Toulouse yourself."

False meat seemingly melted in my mouth.

Open field, no cover. FAL's peculiar grenade launcher, capable of volley fire. Cover wide area. May not be enough to thin the enemy's numbers rapidly. Solution...an automatic weapon. Machine gun? What about counter-sniper work? Jaegers in the open. Their weapons have a low rate of fire. Seem to have a charge time. Shoot them before they shoot us.

"BAR and M14. Take them with you. BAR's task is to thin down the enemy numbers as quickly as possible. M14 handles counter-sniper work. She needs a spotter. Can you handle that?"

"You chose me to be Team Leader again?" FAL touched her chest with all four of her painted fingers, turned her nose up and spoke haughtily. "You have good taste. However!" The table shook. Stew did not spill. She had slammed her palms onto the furniture. "I still need two more T-Dolls to round up my team. Give me MP40 and Papasha. I need submachine-gunners to deal with the Sangvis the moment they close the distance."

"Why them, specifically?"

"It's summer, isn't it? Not a single drop of rain, dry plains make good fuel. Just a little spark and…" she snapped her fingers, "...Brochettes!"

"Not dry enough," I commented. "Fog in the morning. Dew while the sun peeked from behind the mountain."

"We still have dry farmlands, right?"

Both of us looked at Skorpion. She cocked her head to her right. "Did I say something wrong?" FAL wore that smug grin again. "See? Just in case."

"If you need a firestarter, why not bring me along?" Skorpion asked again. Her head cocked to her left.

"I don't like you," replied FAL, without looking at Skorpion. "You argue and shout too much."

Skorpion stuck out her tongue. "That's your problem!"

"I understand MP40 but why Papasha?"

"Another grenadier wouldn't hurt," FAL replied. "I had seen Papasha's work. She's obedient and more resourceful than she appears." That smug grin took on a more gentle quality, "I can see why Pierre treats her like his protege. I like her."

"You actually like someone?." Skorpion snickered. "That's new."

"Ta Gueule, Skorpion!"

Ingram loomed behind FAL. "My turn," she declared as she squeezed in between Skorpion and FAL. FAL scowled as the stitched-up doll lifted one leg over the bench, then another, before sitting with a squatting motion. She slammed down her paper and leaned forward, her right arm perpendicular to the table. Frenzy lurked behind her cocky grin. "I have Executioner figured out. Send me after her."

"I will decide after I hear your proposal."

Her grin took on a serpentine quality. "Executioner's no swordswoman. She's a brute! Easy enemy!"

"That is very rich, coming out of a folle violente like yourself."

Ingram continued, unaffected by FAL's taunt, "Executioner has no finesse or technique. She swings her sword like a cleaver. Two second delay between her swings, too much telegraphing, rigid angles."

"Your point being?" FAL narrowed her eyes.

Skorpion tilted her head. "You are saying she can't handle close quarter fighting against a real expert?"

"You've read my digimind, Skorpy." Ingram pointed her index fingers at the mono-eyed T-Doll. "We aren't friends for nothing," Skorpion replied with her own finger gun gesture. Ingram chuckled and slapped Skorpion's right shoulder. "That one-year camping counted for something, huh? Aaaanyway…" she returned to the topic, "...Against someone with real technique, she's in trouble. She can swing, swing and swing and she won't harm a hair."

"Your hair, you mean," FAL pointed out.

"She's going to wear herself down sooner or later. When that happens…" that manic grin again, "I will land the killing blow. Dig her core out of her chest."

"Cut the boast," I chided. "How will your 'real technique' fare against Executioner's massive blade? You are armed with a submachine gun and a dagger."

"The dagger's the trick." She drew the aforementioned weapon and passed it into her right palm. FAL reared back, her eyes widened slightly. "You see, a dagger is an agile weapon." Ingram returned the weapon to her left. "A long, heavy blade like Executioner's?" she passed the dagger back to her right palm. "Unwieldy and cumbersome, especially when used with one hand…" she returned the dagger to her left, flipped it around and swung it about in a horizontal zig-zagged pattern.

"Ingram!"

Skorpion caught the aforementioned T-Doll by the wrist. Her dagger was aimed towards my direction, point first. The table shook. Coffee and soup spilt on its surface. The left knee ached. Skorpion's glare bored at Ingram. "Don't you dare!"

"Tch," Ingram clicked her tongue, "Way to ruin the effect." She sheathed the weapon. "Point is I have way better control over my blade than she does hers."

"That toothpick of yours isn't going to pierce her endoskeleton." FAL folded her arms. "Last I checked, one can't stab with the velocity of a discharged bullet. Moreover, she's a T-Doll. Her power supply might last as long as ours."

"She is just the distraction."

FAL frowned as she regarded HK416, who was standing behind her. The German T-Doll placed her palm on her 'heart' and continued, "I'll be the one to land the killing blow."

"Oho," FAL lifted her palm over her mouth and snickered smugly, "Two T-Dolls against one Ringleader and her minions. Why, aren't you confident?"

"What do you mean, 'two' T-Dolls?" Skorpion leaned towards the table. FAL shot her a glare. "The three of you, and your dummies, won't contribute enough firepower to deal with her and her minions. Moreover…" she turned her gaze towards Ingram, "How do you plan to invite Executioner to your dance?"

"Engage her in the settlements, forests or caves."

"Commander?" FAL tilted her head slightly. Her arms were still folded.

"While you engage Hunter, Executioner will be forced to move on M4A1 herself. M4A1 will most likely hide in high cover areas. Settlements, forests or caves. Ingram and her team…"

"My team, Commander," HK416 declared calmly.

"I didn't vote for you," Ingram protested.

"HK416's team will wait there to ambush her once she enters the area."

"Nice, Commander," Ingram shot me an upturned thumb. "Plenty of blind corners and obstructions. Too many obstacles for her shockwave attack to be effective, and her blade's bound to be caught by something in enclosed spaces."

"Keep Executioner occupied while HK416 and Skorpion clear out her minions…"

"You need more firepower to efficiently eliminate them," FAL interjected. "You need someone like, say, FNC."

"Quoi?" FNC turned towards our direction. "Need me for something?"

HK416 gave FAL a hard glare. "G11 alone is enough against such trivial opponents."

FAL folded her arms. "Oh? Can you confidently say she can penetrate Executioner's sturdy exterior?"

"G11 fires three bullets with a single trigger pull," HK416 informed. "All three shots will hit the same mark. She _will _pierce her endoskeleton."

"I say precision fire, aimed at the weakest points of her endoskeleton, will yield better results," FAL argued. "FNC can provide precision fire in such close quarters. If she can't incapacitate Executioner, she can immobilise her." She grinned smugly. "That would be ideal, no? An immobile Executioner. You can bombard her with those ridiculously overyield grenades as much as you want. Why, the cumulative force of the blast may be enough to dislodge that stick in your rear."

FNC left her seat and jogged towards us. "FAL, will you give me choco if I do this?" she asked, starry-eyed.

"Mmmmmm…" G11 lifted herself from her bench and wobbled towards us. She leaned against HK416 and uttered groggily, "...Precision fire is better. Let her do it?"

"G11!" HK416 snapped.

"Choco?" a stream of drool flowed down FNC's chin.

"I have...chocolate ice cream," said G11. "You can have it."

"If you skip this," HK416 glared at G11, "I'll tell her. You know what she would do."

G11's eyes snapped wide open. "Y-You mean…?"

"Your flying zombies are in danger." Threat creeped behind HK416's cold voice.

The narcoleptic shivered. She clutched HK416's left sleeve and wrung her arm frantically. "I'll do it! I'll perform the mission! Just leave my collection alone!" she pleaded.

"Do your job and she won't touch your collection," chided HK416 coldly, without looking at her grey-haired companion.

"Oho," FAL grinned condescendingly as she rested her cheek on her palm. "You actually trust the narcoleptic to do her job?"

HK416 turned her glare towards the Belgian doll. "I trust her more than the chocolate extortionist."

FAL smiled smugly, "I can count on the extortionist to perform."

"Take both of them."

FAL blinked. Her smile faded slightly. "Quoi?"

I repeated, "Take both of them. FNC and G11. HK416, you are the team leader. Your team will consist of Ingram, Skorpion, FNC and G11."

"Acknowledged, Commander," HK416 smiled triumphantly. She then saluted. "We will deliver victory with utmost precision. Look forward to it."

"Team FAL will combat Hunter in the open field. Team HK416 will take Executioner in close quarters. Both teams will remain in Hevhj around the clock. You are the QRF. We will discuss tactics further at 2100."

**2050**

I pocketed the dictation machine and returned my attention to the tactical map. Surveillance mode. No red blips on the screen. UAVs blind at night. Only Hevhj visible on the feed, indicated by a cluster of pinprick lights.

Paper at the right corner. Chicken-scratch of rough maps. Switched to my left. The maps I would present were under my right palm.

Quiet, if not for the rattling turbine and humming generator. The dead were silent, as they always were. I sank into my chair.

Captain, Phillipes, the scouts. What would they say at this moment? What would be their thoughts about this challenge posed, these adversaries we must face? What counsel would they provide?

"Cetin?"

Eyes peeled from the map towards the iron gate. Skorpion's blue eye was filled with trepidation. "I didn't interrupt anything, right?"

"...No."

She cocked her head slightly. "Both teams are gathered. It's almost time for our tactical meeting."

"...In a moment."

_You must be very disappointed in me, Captain, to see me buckle so easily to Springfield. What a weak man you had nurtured. To think you had entrusted the success and safety of our men to me._

_It hasn't been a day since I declared my commitment to resistance and...here I am. Marching to Springfield's tune again. Leaving the tomb despite my better judgement and going out into the argent light once more._

_At least some benefit was derived from this._

_We've finally devised our battle plan. Some refinement is needed and...truth be told, there are too many uncertainties in it. I don't believe I have a good gauge of our enemy's capabilities but...we have a plan._

…

_Captain. A confession. _

_It felt as though a weight was lifted. Not much of a weight, but enough to downgrade it from 'crushing' to 'burdening.' I felt glad...to be up there and receiving counsel. _

_These dolls, HK416, FAL, Ingram...them and their bickering ways...they can't replace you or our men. However, for a while, I forgot I wasn't home._

_Maybe it's because you weren't around to bump their heads together whenever they get too unruly._

_Heh. _

…

_I'm leaving now. Need to prepare for my return to the argent light. Have to work out the details, refine the plan. _

…

_|Sighs|_

_Not looking forward to interacting with M14 again._


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**0400**

Melodious waking chirps turned into terrified squawks. Brown and black feathers fell from the trees and roof like ashes of a burning city. The ringing of a discharged firearm had disturbed the tranquillity of the Northern Cliffside.

Sights aligned. Trigger gnawed at my finger. Shock in my left wrist, arm and shoulder. Thunderous discharge splitting the wind. Click. Slide locked back. The hanging pan clanged for the third time. Turned over the Grach, replaced its mag.

Dimas took a long drag on his cigarette. Ember burning rapidly towards the filter. The light stopped millimetres away from his thumb and finger. He flicked it away and said with mocking admiration, "You've actually managed to hit the target from ten meters. Impressive."

AK-15 thrust before me. "Give this one a try," said Grigori, before drinking from his steel mug. "Have some kompot first!" Nagant counteroffered. She was carrying two more of the steel mugs. "You too, Dimas!"

Dimas wore a toothy grin as he received the drink. One sip and he spat and swore, "Oi! Cyka! This is too sweet!" Nagant smacked him in the arm. "No foul language, moshennik!" she chided.

"Ow! Babushka! That hurt!"

Grigori emitted a hearty laugh.

Chill between my lips. The sweetness of peach flooding down my parched throat. Handed the mug to Grigori. Retrieved the gun.

Hanging pan had fallen still. Safeties off. Pulled back the bolt. Buttstock pressed against my right shoulder. Sights aligned. Finger on the trigger. The false arm jolted back. Aching where flesh joined polymer, bones joined metal. Ringing in my right ear. The pan swung back and forth like a pendulum, holes punctured into its surface. Fragments of bark rained down on it.

"Recoil management still needs work," Grigori commented, gesturing at nothing in particular with his right pinky. "Maybe ask your doc to install joint-lock into that prosthetic. Might ease the handling."

Uttered no comments. Readjusted aim. Swaying pan in the sights. Pulled the trigger.

The door of the hut creaked open. "Uuuuu…" Skorpion moaned. She was holding the side of her head with one hand and a mug of kompot in another. "What's with the din?" With a squinted eye, she peered at the gun in my hand. She then looked at the punctured, swinging pan. She shambled towards an unoccupied steel chair and slumped on it. Still clutching her head, she returned to her drink.

Several more minutes. The pan disintegrated. "Oi, Babushka," Dimas said suddenly. "Why not try cooking something more hearty, eh? Something like potato omelette?"

Nagant stopped swinging her leg and lowered her mug. "If you want omelette so much, I'll make you an omelette."

"Really?" Dimas grinned like a child. "Really!" Nagant nodded enthusiastically. "I'll borrow Springfield's kitchen and make some."

"Awwww…" Dimas sounded dejected. "Maybe next time we make omelette in the guard post?" he added hopefully. "Of course not!" Nagant replied forcefully. "You know how expensive eggs and potatoes can get. It's going to cut further into the base budget!"

"Come on, make some omelette in guard post." Dimas raised both his hands and kneaded the air. "I give shoulder massage."

Nagant lowered her mug and stared over to the snowy peaks in silent consideration. After a while, she replied, "Nope! You eat in the mess hall like everyone else!"

"Come on, am I not your favourite?"

Nagant grinned impishly. With a snicker, she replied, "Not playing favourites, cheeky Dimas."

Returned the gun to Grigori. "Leaving already?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied with a nod.

He took one last gulp of his kompot. "Need a ride back?"

Shook my head. "No. I will walk."

"Ah. Alright." Torso shoved forward. Grigori smiled. "Say hello to Springfield for me, yeah?"

"...Will do."

"Oh!" The chair creaked as Nagant Revolver got on her feet. She raised her right hand and announced, "I'm coming too."

"Babuuushkaaaa…" Dimas whined.

Nagant Revolver, hands clasped behind her back, twirled towards him. She was grinning. "Don't worry, little Dimas. I left some more kompot and shashlik in the hut. Kompot's in the normal thermos. Shashlik's in the one with the green cap."

"Awww, thanks, Babushka."

"We're leaving already?" Skorpion groaned.

"Yes."

"One sec…" she finished her drink, got up and half-jogged towards me.

Fresh scent of dew rose in our wake. The crickets sang as the sun gently caressed the dirt road. Nagant Revolver walked ahead of us, her legs swinging up and down near-ninety degrees. Skorpion was lagging behind. She shambled and wobbled and almost tripped thrice.

Stopped, turned back. Clutched her hand, steadied her gait. Still more road ahead.

Nagant stopped to kneel by a patch of grass. She plucked a stalk and whipped it about. Swish-a-swish. She smiled with satisfaction before returning to the road.

A streak of yellow brushed the false arm. Felt her weight against the appendage. She had fallen forward. Eyelid closed. Soft snores. Nagant pointed at the T-Doll and exclaimed, "Ah! Skorpion's asleep!"

Such absurdity. An android snoring away at her feet.

"Help get her on my back," I instructed with a half growl.

She weighed heavier than her size might suggest. By ten kilos? Twenty? She shifted about but continued to snore. Nagant, close behind, had tickled her back with her grass stalk.

Nagant then overtook me. Walking backwards, with her arms folded behind her head, she commented. "You are slouching too far forward, Commander. Do you need help?"

"No."

"Come on, Commander." She rolled up her right sleeve and flexed her arm. "This Babushka may be small, but she's strong." Muscle bulge indiscernible.

"No."

She frowned and dropped her arm. "Suit yourself, then, Shivyokov," she said, before hurrying on further down the road. She stopped, looked back towards us, then darted away once I closed within three steps distance.

Very fleet-footed, for someone who had complained about having short legs.

Passed the rows of shophouses. Dried out fountain came into view. A loud thud from my right. An Ingram had thrown a copy of herself onto the cobbles. HK416, arms folded, uttered sternly, "Three minutes. You are way behind your mark." The defeated Ingram sat up, cross-legged. She rubbed the back of her head, cracked her neck twice and grumbled. Her dummy took up an upright posture, still as a statue.

"Five minutes break, then we'll continue."

Our eyes met. She straightened herself and saluted. "Commander," she greeted. She peered towards the T-Doll who had rested her chin against my right shoulder and frowned deeply.

"How's her progress?" I asked.

HK416 lowered her hand and replied, "A mere two-minute improvement since 0400 hours." Scorn crept in her tone. "Give me a break!" Ingram complained aloud. "I'd only three hours of sleep!"

"You'd only four more minutes of rest," HK416 replied with a sneer. "You would waste that on petty complaints?" Another grumble from Ingram as she rocked back and forth.

"Commander!" Sturmgewehr jogged down the steps and across the Town Square. She threw a salute and said, "Skorpion didn't give you trouble, did she?"

Shook my head. Sturmgewehr gazed skeptically but said nothing. "I'll help get her to bed," she offered. With a nod, I turned my back towards her and released Skorpion into her arms. She nodded again before hiking back up the church's steps.

"Commander," said Nagant, as she threw away her grass stalk. "I'm going ahead to the kitchen. Don't be late for breakfast." Without waiting for my reply, she hurried after Sturmgewehr towards the church.

"Hey, Fox!" Pierre, seated on the dry fountain, waved his left arm. He was clutching a steaming steel mug with his right. "C'mere! Have coffee with us." Seated to his left, chewing on two slices of bread with a single piece of vegetable and false meat in between, was a boy of maybe fifteen or sixteen summers. He was dressed in a black hooded jacket with yellow stripes.

"Hey, Deele!" The boy rocked forward with a retching motion. "Greet the Commander." The boy, Deele, nodded at me before returning to the task of devouring his meal.

"Oh, come on," Pierre said again, shaking his head. "It's not like the sandwich's running away."

"He is not wearing IOP colours," I commented as I unfolded a steel chair. Received a mug from Pierre and sat down. The boy swallowed his sandwich and replied, "That's because I'm not IOP." He then licked his fingers and smacked his lips. "I know, I know. 'What's this kid doing here? He's a civilian, right?' I get that alot."

"He's actually a technician," Pierre said. "Really good at his job too, despite his appearance."

"I'm not just 'good at my job'," Deele replied with a smirk. "I'm the best. A genius! Just ask Her Highness over there."

He was pointing at HK416. She glanced at us with a frown before returning to Ingram. "Time's up," she said, her tapping foot emphasised her impatience. "Yeah, yeah," Ingram mumbled as she got back onto her feet. Her dummy stirred. They both took up fighting stances, one foot forward, arms raised to the chin. The two Ingrams circled around each other, their movements mirrored.

"Keep telling yourself that," said Pierre, wearing a smirk as he lowered his mug.

Caffeine aroma. Citrus and cinnamon mingled with the sour-bitter taste. Springfield's brew. Was she the only coffee-brewer in this company?

"You came here with HK416?"

"And G11," Deele replied while unwrapping another sandwich. "I'm their personal technician."

"...Personal?"

"You didn't know?" Pierre arched his brow. "I thought Kalin or Lev told you already. They are from a special unit. Handles specialist assignments."

"And we were called in and dispatched to your company…" Deele bit into his sandwich.

"Don't talk while you are eating."

Deele gave me an incredulous look. He chewed slowly, swallowed, then drank his coffee. He then continued, "...to do grunt work. Not really something we do. I'm surprised…" Deele leaned to his right and peered over my shoulder. "...Her Highness went along with it without a complaint."

That explained her serious demeanour.

"I take it she's the leader of this special unit?"

Caught a glimpse of a smirk as he raised his mug towards his lips.

One of the Ingrams threw her fist towards the other's chin. The other Ingram blocked the strike and retaliated with a gut-punch.

"I'm surprised Her Highness agreed to teach her how to do that," Deele started. "That's one of our trade secrets."

"Perhaps she decided the risk necessitates this revelation?"

Deele laughed. "That's not really what I meant but sure, we can go with that."

One of the Ingrams dodged a strike to her face and retaliated with a similar attack. The other Ingram deflected the blow. Her knee shot up towards her opponent's abdomen.

"So, what do you think of Her Highness?" Deele asked before sipping on his coffee.

"She's a good soldier."

"That's all?" He looked sceptical.

"She knows how to extract performance from problematic personalities."

"That's not what I meant, Commander." He put down his mug. "She's got these nice long legs and…" he made a curving gesture in front of his chest. "...these little monsters hidden beneath her sweater…"

A sheathed knife fell from the sky and struck him in the nose.

One of the Ingrams was swept off her feet. The other Ingram straddled her. A manic grin formed on her face as she struck her opponent in the forehead. She rose with both arms raised. "Yes!" She exclaimed. HK416 folded her arms and frowned. She was flushing.

"You are still short by ten minutes."

"Oh come on!" Ingram complained as she swiftly lowered her arms.

Pierre laughed like a cawing crow.

"Mein Gott." Deele clutched his bleeding nose. "I need to see the medic…"

"Next time, keep the snide remarks to yourself." Pierre emitted another shrill laugh.

"I'll take him there."

Deele, still clutching his bleeding nose, turned left as soon as we crossed the double gate. He waved me off as I motioned to follow.

Springfield crossed the centre of the hall. She was carrying a basket of MRE packets. "Ah, Commander. Good morning," Springfield greeted.

"Morning. Grigori said 'Hello'."

Springfield merely smiled in reply.

"Do you need help?"

She nudged towards one of the steps just beside the catacomb entrance. "There are four baskets of peaches in the Vestry. Do kindly help bring one of them to the kitchen."

Dim sunlight filtered through the cracked stained windows to illuminate the basket of packaged foodstuff lining the walls. One basket was filled with said peaches. Picked it up. Felt the pull of its weight on my arms. The false limb held.

Pink, with a dash of yellow. Sweetness wafted from the basket. The question regarding their source remained.

Met Springfield at the exit. She picked up the nearest basket of MRE with ease. Her usual smile took on an amused quality after she beheld my expression. "My, still curious about the peaches?"

Images from the tactical map filled my mind. Large clusters of trees at the borders of S09, arranged in semi-geometrical shapes. Orchards?

"Kalin sent some technicians to help a settlement with their electrical problems yesterday afternoon," Springfield replied without my prompting, as we descended the steps. "These peaches are gifts of appreciation. They came with last night's helo."

Our walking paces were synced all throughout our trek.

"...I see. Does HQ know?"

"No, they don't. These activities are off the record," she replied.

"Compensations?"

"Not monetary." Her footing remained sure despite the bobbing of her basket. "We are compensated with supplies and foodstuff, like these peaches."

"I see. Does she always do this?"

Springfield's smile became inscrutable. "For as long as I know her? Always. How did the Northern Cliffside do?"

"All quiet there. Grigori was very pleased to receive the peaches. Wondered from whence they came."

A raised curl on the edge of her lips. "I imagine he was more than pleased. I've heard from Sturmgewehr and Nagant you'd carried Skorpion on your way back?"

Gave her a curt nod.

"You didn't hurt your back, I hope?"

"My back holds."

She giggled briefly.

"Ah, Commander!" cried Nagant, dropping her batter and her bowl. She circled around the table and headed towards us. "You shouldn't carry something so heavy," she reprimanded. "Let me take it!" She snatched the basket from my grasp. "Now, go rest! Babushka will take care of the rest!"

Springfield giggled again. "We'll take it from here," she said.

Crossed the hall, avoided the filtering sunlight. Descended down into the abyss. Darkness interrupted by the eerie blue glows, silence disturbed by sporadic statics. Reports filled the tables. Pulled up a chair and sank onto it.

Red blips coasted the landscape in sweep formation at leisurely paces. No change in the situation.

True fingers in my pocket, feeling for the plastic edge.

_I'd been out all night. Stinging around my prosthetics, burning on my limbs, aching on my back._

_The air, I have yet to get used to. Not quite arid, more alive. It's a shame you aren't around to see what I had seen. A creeping sea of fog under the plateau. _

_The T-Dolls are heavier than they look. I shouldn't be surprised. They are beings of metal and polymer. Sturdier than us creatures of flesh and bone. _

…

_The meeting didn't really go well. M14 showed signs of resentment. When Skorpion put herself between us. When I kept avoiding her gaze. _

_Sooner or later I will have to look her in the eyes. I just hope I will not behave poorly when the time comes._

…

_HK416 is certain she can bring us victory. Her confidence was unaffected by FAL's incessant questioning and doubts. I can't fault her. Did you know it was her idea to train Ingram to micromanage her dummy? Give Executioner an additional target to worry about?_

_..._

_Should I envy her certainty and lack of doubt?_

…

_Perhaps._

…

_I have a confession to make. Every piece of information I acquired fills me with uncertainty. Is there an angle I am missing? Was there something I had failed to notice? These questions swirled in my mind every time I look through every scrap of new Intel. Truth be told, I wasn't even confident with the strategy against the Grifon counterattack. _

…

_Well, you know what happened. _

…

_I wonder if you were beset by these same doubts when you bore the mantle of Command yourself. _

_..._

_Sturmgewehr. She was very thorough in her observation of the mountain pass. Her report stated every single encounter with the Sangvis reinforcements. Their numbers had trickled down to the minuscule. Some, she had bombarded with what few grenades she still had on her person. They did not respond to her ambush. The Sangvis did not respond when I had their reinforcements cut off._

_This apathy must mean Executioner and Hunter had brought more than enough troops into this subsector. The observation of their movement on the tactical map supports my impression. Their patrol units are no more than an hour away from one another. Some as close as fifteen minutes away from each other._

_Finding M4A1 will be one thing. Surviving the inevitable Sangvis onslaught is another. The key to surviving this ordeal lies in the termination of the Ringleaders._

_Executioner, she will come and HK416's team will eliminate her. The issue now lies with Hunter. We have yet to see her. She is not behaving the way Intel suggested. If she does not show..._

…

_I need to devise an extraction plan._

**0716**

Clattering pen, rattling spoon. splashing soup. Omelette dislodged from hanging fork. Sight tore from the dim screen towards silver eyes. Total silence reigned in the Mess Hall. Silver-Eyes smiled, smug and confident. A smile that knew no defeat. "So _you_ are the lucky one." She straightened herself, removed her loosely bound boot from the bench and extended her hand. "Sniper SVD. Pleased to meet you."

A slap on my right shoulder. Lev nudged his head towards the silver-eyed T-Doll. Our hands mirrored. SVD smirked.

"Fox! Your right!" Lev whispered urgently. Switched arm from true to false. A strain, a dull ache where flesh met polymer and metal. Her grip was tight as a vice and her handshake was as vigorous as her spirit.

Another Doll behind her, she of red eyes and sandy hair. Wearing an embarrassed smile, she pressed her hands together as though in prayer and winked.

"Hey, SV-98!" SVD released the false arm and shoved the aforementioned T-Doll forward. "Don't be shy. He doesn't bite." SV-98 frowned at her comrade as she took another step forward. With a friendly smile, she saluted. "SV-98, reporting for duty." She lowered her arm. "We are here to assist in the hunt for M4."

"Huh?" A crack of blue behind Skorpion's single eyelid. Her mouth closed shut, cutting the stream of drool dripping off her chin. "M4? Where?" she asked groggily. Sturmgewehr frowned as she straightened the mono-eyed T-Doll's head and resumed brushing her hair.

"Specifically," SVD interjected loudly, left arm on her hip, right fist brought to her puffed out chest, "we are here for Hunter!"

Murmurs erupted in the chamber.

"SVD!" SV-98 snapped at her. "You promised you won't mention that!"

"So! I see HQ finally took notice of our activities," FAL's voice echoed through the chamber. She stood up from the table directly opposite of HK416's, just before what Grigori called the Templon, strutted down the middle of the chamber towards us and stopped right in front of SVD. As she folded her arms, she threw a glance at the sniper's sticker-encrusted rifle case. Fel, standing tensed on her right shoulder, snarled at the sniper.

"You are not some morveuse, I see," she said.

SVD met her withering gaze with a confident smile. "So, the Fox Hunter deems it fit to grace us with her presence. I am honoured."

"Ah. So, you do know of me." FAL narrowed her eyes. "Then it should come to no surprise _I _will end Hunter's banditry."

SVD snorted. "You? A Fox Hunter hunting a wolf?" She cracked a smug grin. "An amusing jest, FAL. Very amusing."

"The hunter mistakes a hawk for a wolf?" FAL arched her brow. "How amusing. Are you truly a hunter, or simply a prétendante pâle?"

SVD's brow twitched. "Such sass from a city girl. Why don't you just...go along home to wallow in your soft glitzy existence? Leave this endeavour to a true woodswoman?"

"I won't miss the chance to witness a le péquenaud make a fool of herself with such antiquated tools," FAL retorted, pointing at the sniper's rifle case.

Another twitch. "I see the city girl has no respect for the tried-and-true. I shall remedy this."

Before she could continue antagonising FAL, SV-98 pinched her cheek and pulled her towards herself.

"SVD!" SV-98 admonished. "You promised not to antagonise anyone!"

"Bhut SV-98!" SVD protested. "Shee stade...Owww!"

SV-98 had twisted her cheek.

"We are sorry for causing trouble." She said to FAL "Really. Forgive us for our rudeness." She then shot a glare at SVD. "Say sorry!" she hissed.

"...sowwy…" SVD uttered reluctantly. She had averted her gaze from the elite T-Doll. SV-98 released her cheek, though she continued to glare at her partner. The silver-haired T-Doll rubbed her cheek as she glanced around grumpily.

FAL opened her mouth, ready to deliver another pointed comment.

"FAL leads our dedicated anti-Hunter team."

Silver eyes wide. SVD gawked for a split second. "Oh," she started slowly, her confident smile reformed. "So, she does know to trap Hunter…"

"...in a wide open area with nowhere to hide..."

"...exposed to…"

"...concentrated fire by rapid firing snipers and machine gunners."

SVD glared at FAL.

FAL cocked her head slightly and smirked triumphantly. "Any more unsolicited advice, le péquenaud?"

A smile crept onto SVD's lips. "So, you do know you need rapid firing snipers."

"Alas," said FAL, still with that smirk, "that position is already filled."

"Ah," SVD's palms faced upwards as she shrugged her shoulders, "but how good is this sniper, really?"

A twitch on FAL's brow. "Ah, she is most excellent." She glared sidewards towards me. "Isn't she, Commander?"

A sigh and a reply, "M14 has excellent reflexes and precision."

Ingram, sipping on her coffee, appeared to be fuming at the stoic, watchful HK416. "She took out every Sangvis taking aim at Ingram before they could fire a shot at her."

IDW's tongue was hanging out. She was wearing a pained expression as she put down her mug. "She covered IDW's charge upwards a slope yesterday, in a town to our southeast. Allowed her and two of her dummies to reach and breach the enemy's position within a stone house."

Hevhj was clearly displayed on the command tablet. "After we had taken the town square there, she covered both eastern approaches into said town. Did an excellent job covering for her teammates. Kept the enemy from overrunning the blockade and reaching the town square, bought time for the search for M4."

"I have a great eye for talent," FAL smirked smugly.

SVD, still smiling, shrugged. "It seems you have that covered. In that case, I will put together another team. You wouldn't object to that now, would you, Fox Hunter?"

"Alas, we neither have enough helos to quick-drop three echelons nor do we have enough manpower to make such a team without jeopardising our defences," FAL replied. Clicking her tongue, she continued, "Unfortunate. Very unfortunate. You are out of luck."

"Is that right? Well," SVD sighed, "if you feel your sniper inadequate, I'll be around." Still smiling she turned towards Springfield.

"M14 is _most_ excellent." Fel's snarl accompanied FAL's retort. "Too bad. You've wasted your time coming here."

SV-98 placed a disk on the table, nodded apologetically, then hurried after her partner.

**0900**

The boss-lady stared down at me. The ghastly blue of the projection failed to dampen the sternness of her gaze. The image was imperfect; her pupils blurred into her irises and the monocle seemed to have melted into her visage. The shimmering lines were perfectly horizontal. They did not follow the movement of her lips.

"What have you to say for yourself?"

"I've responded to the Sangvis threat."

"You've moved without authorisation."

"Do I need your permission to counter the enemy's flanking manoeuvre and to secure a valuable source of intel?"

"We are aware of M4A1's presence in subsector 2."

"Yet you have made no attempts to secure her."

"We are still working on the means to locate and retrieve her."

"You would allow the Sangvis to entrench themselves in the meantime?"

I could barely discern the narrowing of her pupils. Skorpion's faint snores interfered with the settling silence.

The boss-lady removed her monocle, pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head thrice. "Commander Yilmaz," she started, "We...had a plan. A three-part plan." She produced a cloth out of her coat pocket. "The first part, lull the Sangvis into complacency." She started polishing her monocle. "The second part, launch a surprise attack with four echelons, six days from today. The third part, covertly insert a helo and retrieve M4A1 while the Sangvis are distracted."

She returned the monocle onto its perch. "Your actions had put the Sangvis on guard. The plan had to be reworked to accommodate this parameter change."

"This reworked plan being?"

A fire seemingly blazed within her illusionary blue eyes.

"Pending approval. Complete your training exercise and cease hostilities until further notice. Do _not_ agitate the Sangvis further. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

Her eyes narrowed. Skorpion continued to snore.

"Helianthus, out."

The abyssal tendrils closed the moment the projection winked out. Its advance was checked by the tactical map's light. The image of Hevhj replaced with that of Subsector 1 - T03 the moment the disk slid into its port. Mission...eliminate Scarecrow. Roster...all dolls currently posted in this company, with the addition of SVD and SV-98. Sturmgewehr was curiously absent.

"Commander!"

Skorpion's right knee jolted up. SV-98 snapped into a salute. SVD looked about. "Quite the peculiar place to lair in," she commented. SV-98 elbowed her 'ribs'. "Hush!" she hissed. "I'm trying to help you here!"

Once again smiling, she bowed again. SVD remained upright. "SVD! Bow!" the sandy-haired sniper urged. The silver-eyed one reluctantly followed suit. SV-98 then cried, "We are sorry about earlier!" She then elbowed SVD again.

"...Sorry about earlier," the white-haired T-Doll mumbled.

"SVD!"

"Sorry about earlier!"

"Ehhh…?" Skorpion stirred groggily. "What's going on?"

"...They are apologising for breakfast-time."

"...Oh." Skorpion stretched her limbs before getting up from her seat. "Didn't they already apologise? I think the blue one pulled the white one's cheek?"

SVD grumbled audibly.

"You stop that!" SV-98 urged. She smiled as she circled around the tactical map and showed her hand. "Reintroducing ourselves. Sniper SV-98 and sniper SVD."

"...Why did you reintroduce yourselves?"

"Eheh…" SV-98 drew back her hand and scratched her chin. Her left fingers were trembling. Her smile was nervous. "I thought it appropriate considering the circumstances. Really, we are sorry for what happened with FAL. SVD's very passionate about her work."

"You mean 'passionate about The Hunt?'"

Skorpion's cheeky grin dissipated. She was suddenly interested in her shoe tips. SV-98's smile barely concealed her anxiety.

"...Don't be," I replied.

"You should apologise to FAL," Skorpion interjected suddenly. "You really insulted her there."

"See what I told you!" SV-98 snapped at SVD, who poutily averted her eyes.

"...You apologised to FAL already."

Skorpion cocked her head slightly and gave me an incredulous look. "Cetin, you know FAL's the proud type, right?"

"...Yes."

"You think she's going to accept that kind of half-hearted apology?"

She had a point.

"She wouldn't accept anything less than a kowtow."

The flesh on my right shoulder pulled against metal anchors. "A kowtow?"

"A specific way of prostrating," replied SV-98.

"Like this!" Skorpion scribbled a kneeling stick figure. Its head was bowed low enough to kiss the floor. Its arms were almost parallel to the ground, with its 'palms' pressed against the surface. A show of complete submission.

"...Isn't that too extreme?"

SVD grumbled.

"Yeah, figured Snow wouldn't like that."

"Snow?" SVD gaped.

"Oh!" Skorpion brought her fist to her palm as though she had received revelation. "Oh! Maybe you can get her team to back you up!"

"...Explain."

"FAL's pretty proud and particular about her image. If Snow can get the support of FAL's team, FAL would look like a villain for not accepting her apology."

"Oh! That's a great idea!" SV-98 beamed. She grasped the shorter T-Dolls' hands and shook it exuberantly. "You are a life-saver, Skorpion!"

"Heh heh!" Skorpion grinned. "I'm pretty clever, aren't I? Okay! I'm going to get you their postings. We are getting FAL's forgiveness by the end of the day. Swear!"

SVD glanced at them, then folded her arms and studied the padded wall.

Returned to the tactical map. Boss-lady had increased the number of enemies significantly. Approximately two hundred foes, not counting Scarecrow. Concentrated at the Southern Village and the forest. Sparse concentration of Scout and Prowler Echelons scattered across the field between the captured command post and Southern Village and Cliffside Forest.

Need two Echelons. First Echelon...Team FAL. FAL, M14, BAR, Papasha, MP40. Second Echelon...Team HK416. 416, G11, FNC, Skorpion and Ingram. Siskin 1 will drop Team FAL at the Airport Terminals southeast of the Command Post. Intercept enemy advance, draw them away from Scarecrow's position. Deploy Team HK416 at the eastern edge of the Southern Village or the Farmlands to the east of the Cliffside Forest.

No, enemies concentrated at the Farmlands. Judging by their facing, this must be the source of enemy reinforcements.

Deploy Team HK416 at the very southernmost edge of the Southern Village?

No, that was outside the bounds of the AO. The simulation would not register that as a valid LZ.

"Hey, Cetin!" Skorpion, by the iron gate between SVD and SV-98, waved vigorously. "I'm going to guide Snow and Svet around."

SV-98 bore an uncomfortable smile.

Skorpion continued, "See you at lunch."

After they disappeared up the steps, I returned to the simulation. My false arm was not on the edge of the tactical map. It was raised, palm out, waving slightly.

Two blinks. Three. Lowered the arm. Returned to planning.

**1035**

The red blips in the Southern Village evaporated, only to be replaced by more from the Church. Enemy reinforcements from the Northern Farmlands attempted to bypass the Airport Terminals to reach the Command Post.

"Team FAL, BAR, M14, two dummies, North Airport Terminals. Intercept."

BAR, M14 and all their dummies moved to the indicated position. It seemed the simulation still registered mainframe and dummies as one unit. Aggravating, but harmless, at least. Their complete withdrawal did not harm FAL and the submachine-gunners ability to stave off the Sangvis advance from the Cliffside Forest.

Returned my attention to the Southern Village. The submachine-gunners darted in a zig-zag trajectory, firing at the enemy Vespids and Rippers as they went, with no consideration for ammo conservation.

"Team HK416, cut through the houses."

The Echelon proceeded as previous. No indication they even registered the order. Ingram lost a dummy, intercepting fire which would have hit FNC otherwise. A second loss which could have been avoided.

"Team HK416, Ingram, smoke grenade."

The enemy fire veered wildly off-target. The riflewomen hung back, took cover behind the hedges and fences and covered the submachine-gunners advance. Their accuracy was unimpeded by the curtain smoke.

Chill on my lips, burning in my throat. Hollow splash as I screwed on the flask's cap.

"Team HK416, Church entrance. Skorpion, Church, incendiary. Rest, cover fire."

Church in flames. Village cleared of any red blips.

"Team HK416, north, Cliffside Forest."

Scarecrow's drone fire, all three of them, caught Skorpion's dummy as the Echelon advanced up the slope. Again, none of the T-Dolls used the houses for cover.

"Team FAL, MP40, Papasha, FAL, southeast, Cliffside Forest."

The aforementioned dolls and their dummies left their posts and charged up the slope facing them, the submachine-gunners at the front, as usual. Two minutes, they arrived at the indicated waypoint ahead of Team HK416, took cover behind the trees and foliage and fired upon Scarecrow. The ringleader ignored them and continued firing at Skorpion.

"Team HK416, HK416, Team FAL, MP40, Papasha, FAL, grenade and incendiaries, Scarecrow."

The drones shrugged off the grenades. Skorpion lost her second dummy. Scarecrow switched all drone fire to the third dummy, ignoring all other dolls even when they moved out of cover to reposition.

"All teams, Scarecrow's drones, target of opportunity."

The drones remained untouched. No attempts were made to neutralise them. It seemed the simulation did not register the drones as valid targets. The order was ignored.

"Team HK416, Skorpion, withdraw the fired-upon dummy behind Ingram. Ingram, smoke grenade, advance forward."

All the Skorpions withdrew, leaving a gap Scarecrow won't exploit. The ringleader switched her target to Ingram's mainframe, yet the simulation registered damage taken as being inflicted on her closest dummy.

Scarecrow eliminated. Simulation run-time, one hour and fifteen minutes.

Ingram, one dummy left, despite the mainframe being the target.

Skorpion, two dummies.

Papasha, MP40, three dummies.

FNC and M14, four dummies.

The radio beeped. Skorpion's urgent voice drowned out SV-98's background shouts. "Cetin! I'd been trying to raise you for the past forty-five minutes! It's Snow! She's missing! She disappeared on us while we were helping Papasha out with Northern Checkpoint's radio problem!"

"Understood."

Raised Southern Checkpoint. "Sup, Fox?"

"Seen SVD?"

"The sniper from this morning?"

"It's still morning."

A hollow laugh. "You know what I meant." A brief silence. "Let me check."

Radio silent for two minutes. "Southern Checkpoint to Command. Nobody's seen SVD. She did something?"

"Command to Southern Checkpoint. She left Skorpion's tour while they were helping Papasha with Northern Checkpoint's radio problem."

"Must've gotten bored and wandered off." A hoarse chuckle. "Never thought I hear of a day Skorpion actually bores someone. Alright, I'll keep an eye out."

Raised Northern Cliffside. SVD wasn't there. Gave instructions via the PA system. Submitted the simulation result, took a gulp off the flask, returned to the agenda of the day.

**1130**

Turbine hums interrupted by frantic beeps. Stinging flashes dazzled from beyond the corner of the dark screen. Abyss' tendrils writhed and peeled away from the holo-communicator's light.

"Commander Yilmaz," Helian said coolly as she emerged over the projector. "I have assessed your simulation result. You'd be pleased to hear you are the only commander in your batch to complete the fourth simulation successfully."

"Save the empty praises. The simulation's scenario is a rehash of our operation against Scarecrow."

A subtle amused curl crept up her lips. "This does not take away from your accomplishment. You'd responded swiftly and adapted your strategy accordingly in the face of the unexpected. The rest of your peers had failed to do the same."

So, the Church was a rookie trap.

"However, as successful as you were, there are rooms for improvements. Your casualty rates, for example, can be lowered…"

A window appeared at the ill-defined corner of the projection. Within it shimmered Kalina's groggy visage. "Good morning, Helian," she greeted while rubbing her right eye.

Helianthus' eyes narrowed, her azure gaze turned icy. "Good morning, Kalin," she greeted frigidly.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Kalina pinched the bridge of her nose, then lifted up her mug and gave it a sip. "Let me off this time?" she said as the mug sank away from view. "I had to write that base activity report you'd requested while surveilling our corner of S09 and processing SVD and SV-98's assignment papers. Not to mention the usual mountain of requisition forms and…"

"We appreciate your contributions to the company," Helianthus said sharply. Kalina snapped her mouth shut, frowned briefly, then returned to her coffee.

"We will discuss your performance in the simulation at a later date, Commander Yilmaz. I called both of you at this hour to requisition your company doll roster and the most current map of the HVQQJ base camp."

"...Is this for High Command's battle plan?"

Helianthus opened her mouth, closed it, then frowned deeply. The radio had beeped aloud.

"Hey, Fox!" Lev barked from the earpiece. "I mean Southern Checkpoint to Command. Reporting sighting of SVD, coming from the Town Square."

"Understood, out."

Twisted the dial, pushed the button, lifted the earpiece away, just in the nick of time. "Cetin! Found Snow already?" shouted Skorpion. "SVD's at the Southern Checkpoint."

"Alright! We are on our...Svet! Hey! Wait!"

The radio fell silent.

Helianthus' nostrils flared. "I'd appreciate no further interruptions, Commander Yilmaz." She then sighed, removed her monocle and started wiping it. "Do you have a problem with the snipers I'd dispatched?"

"SVD had a quarrel with FAL."

"Oh?" Helianthus's monocle returned to its perch.

"She is displeased with FAL's taking charge of our anti-Hunter task force."

Helianthus blinked. "You have an anti-Hunter task force," she uttered slowly, deliberately.

"We have countermeasures in place for dealing with Hunter and Executioner."

Helianthus bit her upper lip. "I see. I advise you to incorporate SVD and SV-98 into your plans."

"I'll pass that along to FAL."

Helianthus raised her left brow. "How involved is she in your planning?"

"The plan was formulated using her expertise and field experience. She had also assisted HK416 and I in the formulation of an anti-Executioner countermeasure."

"This took you two days?"

"An evening."

"Oho." Kalina grinned mischievously. "So, who approached whom first? The Dolls, right?"

"...Springfield."

"Hehe," she snickered. "Of course it's her." A triumphant smile emerged from behind her mug. "Real nice, isn't it?" she lowered the mug. "Formulating and finalising counter-measures against not one, but two Ringleaders in a single evening."

"You will submit these battle plans, plus any further plans you are formulating, for our assessment and approval," Helianthus interjected sternly.

"Oh, displeased a subordinate got ahead of you?" Kalina smirked. "Maybe you shouldn't have taken yesterday off."

Helianthus twitched. Kalina snickered, then drank her coffee. "I'd heard about it. A failed mixer, huh?"

"...Mixer?"

"A meeting between potential couples."

"Like a marriage meeting?"

"Which generation are you from?" Kalina's tone was cheeky. A tongue-flick on her upper lip. She continued, "No. Close but no cigar. You know what 'dating' is, right?"

"You have your orders!" announced Helianthus suddenly. "I expect the submissions to be in by 1800!"

Her projection winked out. Her expression, as she dissipated, was of a darker shade.

The turbines rattled. Radio sporadically spat statics. Kalina spoke, "I meant a rendezvous between romantic couples."

"...So, Helianthus took a day off to find someone to romantically rendezvous with?"

"Yep."

"While the rest of High Command agonised over plans to extract M4A1?"

"Yep."

Kalina took another sip from her mug. She appeared less tense, as though Helianthus' departure lifted a great weight over her.

Fire washed down the throat. Metallic clinks rang in the command room. The flask clasped onto the nylon belt. The words I uttered felt arid like wind-blown sand.

"...I see."

**1320**

Southern Checkpoint, four persons. Northern Checkpoint, four persons. Northern Cliffside, three persons. Patrol group, two persons. Town Square, thirty-three...thirty-four persons.

Total personnel to be evacuated, forty-seven persons. Pilots included.

Capacity of Mi-17, twenty-seven persons plus pilots. Two Mi-17's, therefore fifty-four persons. Enough to fully evacuate Hevhj.

Withdrawal plan…

A tug on my false hand. Skorpion had snatched the bags. "Heh heh." She grinned cheekily and capered away. "Ah, wait! Skorpion!" Sten cried and hurried after her, bags in hand.

"Oi! Fox!" Lev, hands around his mouth, shouted from the checkpoint ahead. He then waved vigorously. "What are you dawdling over there for? Hurry over here! Everyone's hungry!"

Entered the Checkpoint. The patrol had already returned. FNC on the roof of the jeep, munching on a bar of chocolate. The jeep she was on rocked back and forth in tandem with her kicking. FN49 at the bottom of the rope ladder, a lunch box in hand. M14 and her dummy on the roof above, staring away at the distance.

"Commander!" SV-98 strode forward, her right hand gripping SVD's left wrist tightly. She stopped, elbowed SVD in the tummy and saluted. Her partner, still pouting, reluctantly followed suit. A dash of red glared from her white right cheek. "Sorry for interrupting your work!" SV-98 said.

SVD grumpily kept her silence, despite SV-98's angry glare. SV-98 elbowed her again. She hissed from tightly clenched teeth, "...Sorry for interrupting your work by going off on my own."

"M14!" Skorpion had joined FN49 below the rope ladder. "Stop staring off into the horizon and come have lunch!" M14 sluggishly stirred, looked towards the two T-Dolls below before making her descent.

"Commander."

Sten held out a lunchbox and a thermos. "Your share, Commander," she said, with an uneven tone and an uneven smile, between posed cheerfulness and genuine nervousness.

Accepted the offerings, took the seat beside Lev. Produced sporks from the pocket. The box contained what looked like a loaf and a pile of potato chunks seasoned with onions.

"So, why were you meandering about under the sun? There are perfectly serviceable shades over the bridges."

Spork carving into the loaf. Ground meat.

"Don't tell me...that wasn't just vertigo? Are you actually afraid of heights?"

Sten spat aloud and choked. Skorpion quickly slapped her back. A moment later, Sten finally managed to speak properly. "He... He's scared of heights? Commander's scared of heights!"

"Anyway, that's quite the thinking face you had back there," Lev continued.

Spork stabbed into a potato chunk. It carried a strong flavour of mayonnaise and onions.

"...Was thinking about an evacuation plan."

Lev gulped down his meal and drank from his thermos cap. "That's what you were working on since breakfast? An evacuation plan? What for?"

"It's Hunter."

"I thought we have a plan for taking her down?"

"She's not behaving as she should."

Lev took another bite. He was looking towards Skorpion. "So, yeah, he's got this poet streak to him. I found him at the Northern Cliffside performing a recital about ruins, civilisations and frozen time to his recorder. Which he carries with him in his pocket all the time, by the way. The poetry isn't even good but he just went on and on and…"

Sten, who was closest to her, stifled her giggles. She had relaxed considerably compared to how she was at the start of our journey.

M14 curiously sat away from the group, staring into her box while silently chewing on her meal, as though deep in thought. Her usual energy and jubilance were gone. Stefan snuck a few glances at her before standing up from his seat and went towards her. "Hey, you aren't being yourself," he said, concerned. "Something on your mind?"

"Ah, that," Lev uttered. "Hunter being a no-show, right?"

SVD and SV-98 were seated to Skorpion's right. Unlike SV-98, SVD was not paying attention to the yellow T-Doll. There was a hint of self-satisfaction on her smile.

I nodded.

"So, what's the problem?" Lev asked. "If she doesn't show, it means we only have Executioner to worry about, yes?"

"Hunter may be using a different strategy. Likely coordinating her troop movements with Executioner's from somewhere outside the AO."

"How's that a problem? Just search and destroy and take her out."

"We are already having problems looking for M4A1."

"We can just leave after we extract M4, right?"

"Hunter may turn her forces against Hevhj."

Lev snickered for a moment before hiding his smile behind a thermos cap. One sip. He replied, "So we hold them off."

"She may have enough troops to overrun us."

"Our defences are solid, Fox." Lev stabbed his spork into the loaf. "She will run out of minions long before we run out of ammo. Kalin's got us well supplied."

"Her troop numbers may be far more inflated than our estimation."

Lev sipped on the thermos cap. "You are being too paranoid, Fox, but sure, I'll entertain you. What have you got?"

"Southern Checkpoint and Northern Checkpoint, four personnel each. Northern Cliffside, three personnel, Town Square, thirty-four personnel."

"Two Mi-17's are enough to evacuate all of us, though we will have to leave everything behind and abandon them to the enemy."

I nodded. "Distance from Southern Checkpoint to Town Square, 2.5 kilometres. Northern Checkpoint to Town Square, 3 kilometres. 5 kilometres between Northern Cliffside and Town Square. The route between Northern Cliffside and Northern Checkpoint to Town Square intersect at the 1-kilometre mark."

"So we set a checkpoint there to cover the retreat from the Northern Cliffside."

"After we bury the cliff-face road at Northern Checkpoint."

"Sounds like you already have the plan covered."

"If Team HK416 and Team FAL were already away when Hevhj is at risk of being overrun…"

Left shoulder shoved forward. "You are thinking too much, Fox. This isn't good for your stomach. Stop the ponderings for a moment, smell the grass and savour Springfield and Nagant's cooking. That will do you good."

"...There is no grass."

Lev shrugged. "You know what I meant. Really, you need to relax more." He then pressed his index finger against his right temple, close to his brow. "Loosen that brow. You'll look less scary this way."

_Good news, Captain. We have an evacuation plan. _

_Southern Checkpoint will retreat to the Town Square as per the original plan. The complication lies with the northern half of Hevhj. _

_The Northern Checkpoint is the least vulnerable of the two, assuming they could set off the demolition charges to bury the cliffside approach there. Northern Cliffside is more exposed, especially once the enemy is able to get past the first hurdle._

_I will use the terminologies NCH and NCL from here on out. NCH for Northern Checkpoint, NCL for Northern Cliffside._

_Both locations possess a jeep. If either party have their jeep disabled, the other party is to retreat to the junction one kilometre north of the Town Square and hold position there. Tiss, FMG-9, Springfield and Sturmgewehr will support. If NCL has their jeep disabled, which is most likely, the T-Dolls will move ahead to their location to cover their retreat. _

_Once all groups have gathered at the junction, they will initiate a fighting retreat back to the Town Square. _

_Now's the matter of Team HK416 and Team FAL. If Hevhj's fall is imminent while Team HK416 and Team FAL are still in the field, they will need to lose themselves in the closest forest or retreat for the mountains. They will have to evade the enemy until the rest of the base exits subsector 2. Once this is done, I will return on the helo and coordinate their evacuation. _

_Both teams will be required to carry signal flares. _

_Else, return both teams to Hevhj, then evacuate with the rest of the base._

_The latter is preferred._

_..._

_Moving on to Hunter. Based on previous experience with Scarecrow, I believe she could be in any of the forests close to Hevhj if she was in charge of sieging our position. The most likely hideout would be the Cliffside Forest to our North. _

_Best to flush her out of that position. I should consult Lev or Grigori if it is feasible to burn down that forest. Else, I will send a scouting team there to determine this feasibility._

_SVD claims to be a woodswoman. This will be a chance for her to prove herself._

…

_On the subject of SVD, I do not like having her here. She's been causing trouble since she set foot on the Mess Hall. Antagonising FAL, wasting Skorpion's time...I have reason to suspect she may be the reason why M14 appeared depressed during lunch. _

_..._

_I may need to confront SVD about her behaviour._

**1920**

"Co...Commander!" It was Sten at the counter. She pushed the tray forward. False steak coated in black sauce, potato salad, fresh greens and a muffin. "I...I made the steak." Sten held her hands behind her and smiled nervously. She was fidgeting.

"...I see."

Springfield, standing by the oven behind her, pushed the right side of her lips up with her index finger. My cheek muscles, both false and true, remained frozen.

"SVD!" Stefan crossed the iron gate and beelined towards SVD's table. "Stefan! Stop!" cried M14, following close behind. I waited for them to clear the path, from two tables away, before proceeding to the serving counter.

"SVD!" Stefan cried again. The aforementioned sniper, chewing on her food, peered towards him with seeming disinterest. "Why did you say these terrible things to her?" he demanded.

"Stefan! Stop!" M14 tugged on his sleeve. "She's right about everything, Stefan!"

"So this is why M14 is absent during that public apology." FAL had gotten up from her seat from the table opposite SVD's.

"Ah! FAL!" M14 greeted the aforementioned T-Doll with a bow. With some hesitation, she continued, "I'll like to resign from the team."

"M14!" cried Stefan, shaking her shoulder.

FAL folded her arms and tilted her head slightly. She turned her attention towards SVD and asked coldly, "What did you say to her?"

SVD placed her utensils onto her tray and made a dismissive gesture, "All I did was speak the truth."

"What did you say to her?" FAL asked again, anger boiling in her voice.

"Cetin! Over here!" Skorpion waved. Ingram, morosely drinking her tea, shot a glance before looking aside. Skorpion scooted further left, vacating a seat, which I took.

"Commander," HK416 nodded. G11 had nodded off against her left shoulder. "HK416," I replied. "How's Ingram's progress?"

"Still five minutes short."

Ingram's tea bubbled. Her brow was knitted with frustration.

"You said what?" SV-98 had shot up from her seat. She was glaring at her white companion. "Well, it's true," SVD replied. "It's a demonstrable fact. If I had been the one covering IDW's charge up that slope, she wouldn't have lost any dummies. Am I right, M14?"

M14 slowly nodded.

"But that doesn't mean…"

"We are after Hunter, SV-98." SVD stabbed her fork into her potato salad. "Not some lethargic Jaeger or some skedaddling Ripper. We need the _best _to gun her down, and I _am_ the best. Besides…even the Commander agrees."

The lungs froze. The air within my throat staled. The spork bent in my grip.

"He wouldn't be so hateful towards her if she had covered IDW better."

"Cetin?" Skorpion's single blue eye was locked to my visage. She had stopped grinning. HK416 stared silently. G11's snoring had become audible.

"What about these praises he doled out two days ago and earlier this morning?" Stefan demanded.

"He's just keeping the peace," SVD answered. "He's an Old Fox. Aching fangs loosening from his gums. He'd rather avoid trouble if he can. He's not going to just tell her he hates her in front of everyone now, is he?"

"Ingram." Ingram lowered her cup. The words coursed out of my throat like abrasive sand. "Your knife. Please." Morbid curiosity glinted in those green eyes. She unsheathed the knife from her wristband and placed it in my true hand.

Teeth-tips felt as though they might shatter. The lungs gasped, the throat groaned.

Ingram's mouth dropped. "Cetin!" Skorpion cried, her single eye wide with shock. A momentary chill followed by a lick of ember where metal split flesh. The bench shifted. "Cetin! Stop!" Skorpion had grabbed my sleeve.

"Quite the venomous tongue you have there, vile sorcière. The Commander does _not_ dole out faint praises."

Trepidation within Skorpion's eye. Her trembling grip slackened. Her shaken determination evaporated.

"Did you even look into his eyes when he was in the command room? He suffers our presence! If he could be rid of us with faint praises, he would do exactly that."

Pounding in the chest and thigh. Dripping blood under my right foot.

"You really _are_ presumptuous…"

Simmering ember in the sundered flesh. Wet plops with every agonising step.

Ingram chuckled. "The heck? He didn't even..."

"Quiet!" HK416 chided.

_Swaying lights. Yellow eyes, gleaming in the steel-ti..._

Excruciation clamped down my thigh and shot up my spine. True limbs trembled, torso yawed. Blood pooled on sanctified ground.

M14's yellow eyes were wide. Her cheeks paled, her hands brought to her mouth.

Loosen the grip on the handle. Dry words scoured my throat.

"I will speak for myself."

SVD's mouth closed, then opened slightly. She blinked once, twice. A trembling grin. "The Old Fox limps forth to bare its fangs."

"Hold that slanderous tongue."

SVD blinked twice and shut her mouth.

Silence reigned as though there was a wake.

_Swaying lights, yellow eyes gleaming in the steel-tinted mist..._

M14 gasped. True arm strained. A sucking gap in the thigh, rapidly filled with cascading blood. Pants soaked in red. Words slithered from between clenched teeth.

"What did SVD say to you?"

SV-98 motioned to speak. No words uttered. She closed her mouth and looked away.

M14 remained silent.

The lungs burned. They strained against the ribcage. "Stefan?"

"Sir!" Stefan nodded. "SVD had told M14 she by all rights shouldn't be deployed into battle, that she had only been assigned to the frontline because of HQ's desperate need for bodies at the frontline."

Defiance in those insolent silver eyes. "I wasn't wrong! M14's was part of the rearline! She wouldn't be here if manpower needn't be filled in such a short notice!" She pointed towards the serving counter. "HQ even deployed Springfield! Springfield! A semi-retired T-Doll who would rather serve coffee than pull a trigger!"

"I did not permit you to speak."

SVD snapped her mouth shut. Her cheeks reddened.

"She had also called M14's accomplishment from two days ago a fluke. She used M14 failure to save all of IDW's dummies as an example."

"IDW _sacrificed_ those dummies to protect M14."

SVD spoke out, "She wouldn't have…"

"There was _no_ _cover_."

SVD pursed her lips.

"The person responsible for necessitating IDW's sacrifice stands before you. M14 is blameless."

_Yellow eyes gleaming in the steel-tinted…_

Blood soaked my feet. Stickiness between my toes and under my sole. The sock clung like a second skin. The parted flesh winced and writhed, raging against the embedded blade.

"I do not hate you, M14."

_...steel-tinted mist. Captain...dead…_

Ribs groaned, burning in the lungs, dust upon my lips. Fleshy crevice sucked on fabric.

"I came here from a dark place. Its phantom haunts me still. Every time my gaze fell upon your eyes, I feel its embrace dragging me into oblivion. It is through pain…"

The flesh shrieked as steel further embedded into it.

"...that I can speak to you face-to-face like this. The pain keeps it at bay."

"You should have just ejected her, Commander!" SVD insisted. "If the mere sight of her eyes brings you this much pain, you should have just ejected her. Let me take her place!"

The muscles coiled. The false limbs whirled. "You will do no such thing."

Frustration in those silver eyes.

"You will do no such thing, _outsider._"

"Outsider? I am Grifon! I am…"

"Each and every doll here have earned their place in this company."

SVD clenched her jaw.

"All of them. P7 has helped with errands. Papasha did much of the construction work. HK416 and FAL have both led their teams to success. Springfield provided counsel. M14 had protected Ingram and IDW, and they, in turn, risked their dummies and their lives to draw fire away from their teammates. _You_? What have _you_ done for us?"

"I am a master huntswoman…"

"You came into our company having contributed _nothing. _You made demands, despite _not _having _earned_ the right. _Yet_ you _dare_ to harass those who had _earned_ _their_ _places_ here."

"Then let me earn my place!" SVD slammed her palm against her heart. "Let me prove my worth! Let me into FAL's team. I will bring you Hunter's head and prove myself!"

Grip tightening around the knife. "Can you truly guarantee you will listen to her orders and not dispute her decisions at every turn? _Can you guarantee you will not rebel against her yoke?_"

SVD opened her mouth. She blinked, closed her mouth and looked away.

"Until you have truly earned your place among us, you have no say in our affairs and our decisions. If this does not please you, you have my permission to return to Helianthus. Do we have an understanding?"

SVD ground her teeth. Her pale face was bright red like blood on snow. Beads of frustration formed around her eyes. Her mouth hesitantly parted.

"...Yes. Yes, sir."

Pin-drop silence, like the calm after the storm.

"We will not have this conversation again."

**2040**

"I came here from a dark place!"

P7 twirled around, right arm stretched towards the ceiling, the other on her chest. She narrowly missed a shelf of aluminium trays.

"Its phantom haunts me still!"

Tiss crept up on her, grinning like a sneaking cat.

"Every time my gaze fell upon your eyes."

P7 pointed at her cross-irised eyes. Tiss loomed overhead, fingers curled like claws.

"I feel its embrace dragging me into oblivion!"

P7 ducked, just as Tiss pounced at her with outstretched arms.

"Ow!" Deele clutched his bandaged nose in between wheezes and bouts of laughter. "My nose!"

"That's corny, P7!" Skorpion exclaimed. "That's really corny!"

"Hey~ Commander~" Ingram uttered. She was polishing the knife. "Saaaaay something~ That was your line~"

"So, anyway! What are we gonna do about Snow?" Skorpion said suddenly. "I mean, she still has to prove herself, right?"

P7 narrowly missed Tiss' chin. "Rats!" she exclaimed! "We have her hunt rats!"

"Hunt rats nya!" IDW joined enthusiastically. "Hunt all the rats! Nya! Never seem to run out of rats! Never have the chance to catch a breather!"

"How come?" Skorpion folded her arms and cocked her head. "There are two of you!"

"P7's always missing, nya!" IDW, wearing a frown, nodded vigorously. "I can't even spare the time to find her nya! Tricksy rats! They never run out, da nya!"

P7 snickered triumphantly.

"What's tyat?" IDW cried. "These numberless rats nya doing?"

P7 pressed her knuckles against her hips. "Of course! The rats and I are the best of friends! I got to record so many of your exasperated expressions and your frustrated 'Da Nya's' for posterity!"

"I helped." Tiss raised her hand. "Secret mission accomplished perfectly."

"My, will you kindly elaborate on the secret mission?"

"Heh heh heh," Tiss snickered. "It's very simple. I snuck around the houses with some rat cages, filled them up, brought them into the Vestry and hid them behind the sacks."

"Then I release them gradually!" P7 pulled out a remote from seemingly thin air. "This way, IDW will never run out of rats to catch!"

"I see~"

Tiss and P7 paled. They slowly turned around like ungreased gears. Springfield, arms folded, wore a smile that was simultaneously warm and cold, like sun shrouded behind dust clouds.

"Run away!" P7 shouted.

"Away~" Tiss tripped as soon as she broke into a sprint. She fell into Springfield's clutches.

"Nyahahahaha~" P7 laughed as she slipped past Springfield. Her laughter ceased the moment she ran into HK416.

"Frau Springfield," she said as she lifted P7 by her armpits. "I caught your cat."

"My, thank you." Springfield beamed. There was no warmth in that smile. "Would you kindly deliver the naughty kitten to the kitchen?"

"...Ja, Frau Springfield."

Springfield marched Tiss through the white curtain. HK416, carrying a thrashing P7, followed close behind. "She's really tamed Her Highness," Deele noted with an amused smirk. "Never thought I'd live to see the day."

He returned to his tablet. Ingram resumed polishing her knife. IDW's wide eyes followed Skorpion's flicking shoe-laces as she kicked her legs back and forth. Marching boots audible from beyond the stone wall. Moonlight filtered from the window behind me.

I wriggled my toes and felt the absence of my leg.

_Quiet. Tranquillity blessed by moonlight. Dust and decay. The stench of anaesthesia had long since faded. The groans and cries were long since swept away._

_Only my voice left. Simultaneously dry and phlegmy. Like dust and decay._

Curtain roughly drawn back.

_The door creaked open. Interloper at the threshold. _

_Captain. Why are you here? Have you come to reap what you had sown?_

"Why are you people still crowding around the patients?" Mikhail, the orderly, glared sternly at the still present T-Dolls.

"Awww," Ingram grumbled. "Come on. It's not like we are suffocating them."

"Three's a crowd, and there's five of you!" Mikhail replied as he squeezed his way between Ingram and the mat. As he collected an iron-smelling aluminium basin, he asked, "Leg still numb?"

I nodded slowly.

"Good. I don't want to hear you screaming tonight. If you feel the morphine wearing off, just shout."

"Ey! Mikhail!" Deele put down his tablet and grinned. "What about me?"

Mikhail frowned. "By all rights, I should kick you out for taking up space. Be grateful."

Deele still grinned as he returned to his tablet.

I still couldn't feel my leg.

"Commyander nya," IDW said. "I'm going back da nya. Nyeed any nyibbles?"

"...I'm fine."

"Take care of yourself, nya!"

Mikhail rolled his eyes. "Shut up, nya! You are disturbing the peace, nya!" He wasn't smiling.

"Goodbye da nya!"

Mikhail wrung his arms at IDW as she slunk off into the light.

Taps on the tablet. Kicking red shoes at the corner of the eye. P7's shrill laughter from beyond the stone wall.

"I don't like getting blood all over my knife, Commander," Ingram said as she laid down her bloodstained rag. "It's sticky, gets everywhere, takes forever to clean and it stinks for a long time." Knife flipped around, pointed towards me. "Care to explain what happened back in the Mess Hall?"

"Put that knife away, Ingram." Skorpion had stopped kicking.

"Tch." The patchwork T-Doll sheathed her knife.

"Anyway!" Skorpion leaned forward. "I share Ingram's sentiment. What were you thinking stabbing yourself? Does that have anything to do with that phantom's embrace? What does that even mean?"

"Better indulge her, Commander." Deele's eyes were still glued to his tablet. "Knowing her type, she's not going to stop hounding you until she gets an answer."

He resumed tapping on the tablet. Skorpion and Ingram frowned.

P7's distressed cry from beyond the stone wall. Sounded like a plea for mercy.

Still can't feel my leg.

Skorpion, eye like China blue.

"_This one doesn't have long," the blue-eyed stranger announced. "IV's out for at least a week. We should give him mercy. Least we can do."_

_Black eyes, once cold, now filled with sorrow. "No. We are taking him in."_

The diaphragm ached. Lungs pressing against the rib cage. Mouth opened to speak.

"Ingram."

HK416's jade eyes directed at the patchwork doll. "Damn…" Ingram sighed. "Yeah, I know. Give me a minute."

"Skorpion!" Sturmgewehr burst through the curtain after them.

"Bweh! Sturmgewehr?" Skorpion spat.

"You still haven't showered, have you? It's getting late!"

"Sturmgewehr! Wait!" Skorpion struggled against the taller T-Doll as she was dragged her off her chair. "Cetin's just about to talk about the phantoms! Sturmgewehr! Stop!" Her voice trailed away into the starry night sky.

"Good riddance," said Mikhail. He slid the curtain back in place and resumed his scribblings.

Exhale. The air in my lungs had fallen stale. Deele silently watched. His fingers hovered millimetres over his tablet screen.

"Something the matter?"

A twitch at the side of his lips. He averted his eyes. "Just thinking how this all seems familiar. Don't mind me."

The tappings returned. "Say, Sturmgewehr and Skorpion aren't actually sisters, right?"

"Does it matter?" I croaked.

Deele stifled a chuckle. "Yeah. It doesn't. Just thinking, is all."

"Commander!"

M14's shadow cast over the curtain. "Commander, are you here?"

The scribblings stopped. "Why are you acting like a bashful schoolgirl? Get in already!"

"Commander...I…" She raised her hands and smacked her cheeks thrice.

"I'm not giving any ointment for that."

"Mikhail! Please! I'm trying to build courage here!"

Her silhouette inhaled and exhaled. "Commander! I...I know you don't want to see me right now because, well...Anyway!" The silhouette bowed vigorously. "Thank you for standing up for me...and...for your confidence in me! FAL told me I should meet your expectations so...I promise I won't let you down! Also…" The silhouette scratched its cheek, "Maybe...you are fighting that phantom, right? I hope you are. After you vanquish it, maybe...one day...we can have a normal conversation? Talk to each other properly?"

The crickets chirped. The scribblings resumed.

"That...that's all! Sorry for disturbing you!" M14 bowed vigorously and hurried out of the premise.

Scarcely a moment later, another silhouette emerged. "Ey, Mikhail!"

The scribblings ceased. "I knew I smelled vodka. I said this before, and I'm saying this again. Get out! I told you before! I don't stock hangover pills!"

"Awww, Bratyunya! You make it sound like I'm always drunk!"

"Well, aren't you? The last fifteen times you were asking hangover pills! What else would you want? Why are you here if not for hangover pills?"

"Just here to see the bezumets who stabbed himself."

The curtain peeled. "Hey, Commander! How are you doing?"

"...Dimas. You are supposed to be at the Northern Cliffside."

"Maxim's covering for me and Babushka wants me to check up on you." His frown curled up into a smile. He dropped his backpack, opened its flap and revealed several clear bottles.

"Vodka!" Mikhail exclaimed irately. "I fucking knew it!"

"Awww, don't be so angry, Bratyunya." Dimas laughed dryly. "It's no good for your face. Come! Drink with us! I brought cards too!"

Deele put down his tablet and grinned. "Cards? You meant poker?"

"Right!" Dimas grinned back in reply. "You are playing? You are playing, right?"

"Of course!" Deele rubbed his hands together. "I was getting bored."

"Great!" Dimas slapped Mikhail's shoulder. "Join us, Bratan! Join! Drink! Make merry! Be our fourth player and stop being so grumpy!"

Mikhail grunted as he put down his pen. "Four rounds and no more!"

"Let me deal!" said Deele. "There's this shuffling trick I'd been meaning to show off."

**+1 Day, 0200**

The wound itched. A scratch would fray its bindings. However, the shoulder felt light. Perhaps as a result of much-welcomed rest. Or the result of being in good company. Or perhaps the result of being a hundred thousand rubles poorer.

A jab of morphine to start the departure from the snoring brothers, from the scent of iron and anaesthesia. To ease my transition into the light.

The moon reached down from the firmament above. My shadow limped along the forest conjured by the furniture lining the hall.

"Up and about already, Commander?" said Springfield, as she trampled the forest of shadows. A slow nod. She gave a gentle smile.

"You haven't turned in for the night?"

"A little later," she replied. Attention drawn to the hefty pot in her grasp. "I'm just about to finish."

She added before I could reply, "I had sent the little ones to bed. No need to burden them with stubborn stains."

"...I see."

Looked away. Limping legs heading towards the abyss.

A loud clang from the kitchen shelf. A loud sigh. Perhaps too loud. She brushed the sweat off her brow and unfastened her head covering. "Now it's finished." Still smiling. "Care to join me for night-time tea?"

The kettle whistled on its stove. She poured its contents into a china pot. Quiet, save for the dying whistles and the ticking clock. Five minutes. Seven. She stood up.

"I am quite unaccustomed to feeling two conflicting emotions simultaneously," she declared as she filled the two china cups. "Fortunately, I had six hours to resolve the conflict." She drank from her cup and set it onto its tray. She wasn't smiling.

"First of all, I'm pleased you stood up for M14."

"It is a superior's responsibility to look after his subordinates."

The tea was purple. It carried a strange floral scent. Its taste, I could not describe.

"It's lavender," she said. She took another sip from her cup. "How is your leg?"

"Can barely feel the pain."

"You mean you can barely feel your leg." She set the cup on its tray. "Is there no better way?"

"The better way takes too long. Pain is an immediate solution."

"It's not a solution, Cetin. You are replacing one injury with another." Her eyes fell on the wounded leg. "You have cut too deep, and you have twisted the knife. The wound could have been infected."

"The injury won't impede my duties, Springfield."

Green eyes stern like patina-coated steel.

"Sten was shocked, you know. Fighting the Sangvis is one thing, but watching her own Commander wound himself? Did you know what she was thinking at the time?"

The clock ticked ten times.

"She needn't concern herself."

"Yet she did," she replied harshly.

"She shouldn't."

"That isn't your choice to make, Cetin."

An owl hooted. The china cooled.

"M14, she went to thank you, despite feeling even more conflicted than I am."

The scent of freshly poured tea rose from warming china.

"The little ones, they made merry around you."

The china clinked.

"Skorpion, Ingram and IDW, they lingered, contrary to their usual energetic nature. Dimas even took the trouble to come over from the Northern Cliffside to keep you company."

Another minute ticked by.

"They did these because they _care_, Cetin. We _all_ do. No matter what you think of us, we _are_ family."

Her face was red.

"I will be more considerate in the future."

She picked up her cup and gave it another sip. She warned as she set it down, "You will _not_ repeat this. None of us wishes to see our Commander hurt himself on our behalf."

"Have you a better solution?"

She pursed her lips. The hoots came from the rafters.

"I make no promises."

**0237**

"Geh!" SVD's stared wide-eyed, her teeth clenched. SV-98, close beside and in the process of straightening a stack of documents, shoved her forward.

SVD shot her partner a glare and received the same in turn. "Aaargh!" she grumbled while scratching the back of her head. "Fine!" She took a few steps forward, knitted her brow and said aloud, "Commander! How's your leg?"

SV-98 glared daggers at her. The tactical map's azure glow painted her countenance a ghastly hue.

"I'm standing."

"I know!" SVD looked aside and scratched her cheek. "Blin...what am I supposed to say here?"

"Apologiiiiissseee," SV-98 hissed audibly.

SVD exhaled. The hardness in her silver eyes was undermined by a light blush creeping up her pale cheek. "Commander! About earlier..."

"Yeeeeesterdaaaaay."

"Yesterday, with M14. I…"

The red overpowered the blue. Her shoulder and arms were stiff. "I'm sorry, alright?" Her eyes flitted towards the foldable chair to my left. "I really didn't expect M14 to take it so badly and for…" Bewildered glare towards me. "For this sumasshedshiy to stab himself…"

"Stoooooop antagonising hiiiiiim!"

"I know!" SVD snapped. "I know, alright!" She looked aside again. "Sheesh, this is so much harder than I thought…" her voice dropped into a whisper, "How does she even do this all the time?"

"What were you doing?"

She glanced at the chair, back at me, then back at the chair. She sighed and scratched her head. "No use hiding it." She straightened herself, eyes focused, face still red. "We are going to earn our place!"

The turbine hummed. Tranquillity over the tactical map. SVD ground her teeth. "Stop with the glare and say something, Commander! You are making this awkward!"

Sporadic radio static. She spoke first, "Commander! You are unbelievable! Three days and you haven't scouted the forests near here? Do you even know anything about jungle warfare?"

"I hailed from a desert city."

"There are forests in North Turkey, Commander."

"...I hailed from a desert city."

"Blin Turetskiy," she scratched her scalp and muttered aside. "Shouldn't have expected anything less. So, Commander!" She straightened herself again. "We went through your notes. It seems you were planning to burn down the forests around the base camp. That won't do! Burning down a forest is different from burning a wilted field! There's enough water content in those woods to blunt your attack!"

Another radio static. She ground her teeth again.

"So! We are going to scout those woods and determine its features! Caves, cabins, the height of the canopies, how many branches on every tree!"

She swung towards SV-98. "There! I said it!"

SV-98 wore an uncomfortable smile and gave her a brief clap.

SVD then swung back. "So, that's that. We are going now!"

She brushed past and picked up her rifle leaning by the iron gate, with SV-98 close behind. As she ascended up the steps, she turned back, "We will be back by breakfast!" She stiffly climbed up three steps, then commented again, "Also, tell Nagant her kompot is too sweet!" Another three steps. "Also! If we see Hunter, we will put her down! Just so you know!"

"SVD! Move!" SV-98 chided.

"I'm going! I'm going!" Her voice lowered, "Stop talking like Mama…"

Mutters disappeared up the steps. The laptop's screen lit up. Inbox...SVD...SV-98...assignment papers. Brought the command tablet's camera to screen, captured the displayed codes.

"Echelon 3:

SVD x 1

SV-98 x 1

Y/N?"

Tapped 'Y'.

"Deploy Echelon 3.

Confirm Y/N?"

'Y' again. Their blips winked onto the tactical map, inside the church.

The steel folding chair creaked.

The blips lingered briefly before exiting the premise.

Chair creaked again. Bottle clinked against the tactical map as its contents were poured into a clear glass. Another creak. Dictation machine in my hand. Pressed the button.

_|Sigh|_

_|Gulps|_

_It's been a long day. Longer than that. Almost 0300 already. _

_SVD had the audacity to appear in my command room after what she did yesterday. Those things she said to M14, those arrogant things, they were vile…hurtful. _

_And she dared to use my avoidance of her to…_

_..._

_|Sighs| _

_She departed from Skorpion's tour group as soon as they got busy with Northern Checkpoint's problem. Radio reception problem, according to Papasha. Had Skorpion to help move the antenna somewhere higher to see if the signal clears up. SV-98 offered to help. SVD had given them the slip as soon as SV-98 tried to press her for aid._

_She's been waiting for this opportunity. The fact that she avoided all the high traffic routes to get to M14 meant she had always planned for this. _

_And the hurtful things she said to her…_

…

_|Gulps|_

…

…

_..._

_SVD and SV-98 had departed to scout the Cliffside Forest. Their blips had passed the junction some five minutes ago._

_They are...trying to make amends. By taking on this task. SVD is making an effort. Going to earn her place. Pride...remorse...not sure which has stronger pull. Still...respect her for making the effort._

…

_Being able to actually monitor my scouts' activities. Heh. Wish we had this tech...back then..._

…

_..._

_Captain…_

_I am partly responsible for M14's hurt. _

…

_The wounds Yellow-Eyes dealt to me...they bled on M14. They could bleed on the others too. One day. Soon._

_|Sighs|_

…

_Leg's starting to hurt again._

…

_|Gulps|_

_Where did I leave that morphine..._

…

_|Hisses|_

…

…

_|Sighs|_

_Stab myself...just to be able to talk to M14. Heh. So many years of commanding and this is the best I can come up with? _

…

_Springfield is right. I'm just covering one injury with another._

_..._

_I could really use your counsel, Captain._


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_I__t's 0630._

_..._

_It's 0630. _

_..._

_The base is beginning to stir. Sentinels...likely making preparations for the Changing of the Guard. _

_Papasha's already up and about. At the Northern Checkpoint, checking on their radio. Might already be on the way back with SVD and SV-98. Ingram and HK416...at Town Square. Ingram's floored by her own dummy. She's getting close to HK416's target._

…

_Sun's so high up. Can feel its radiance...even in the shades. As though it's already the afternoon._

_SVD and SV-98...fifteen minutes away from the Church. _

_..._

_I do not know why I decided to be here and not...in the command room. Force of habit, I suppose?_

…

_I must really miss our scouts if I am so willing to be here waiting for them to return. Tolerating the numbness, the dissonance of walking without feeling my legs. Like...floating. _

_Just...had to be outside to greet them when they return. _

_This isn't even the Nest's courtyard, but...close enough._

…

_The helos are coming. Talk again._

**0640**

A pink streak bolted out of the opened hatch under cover of the dust cloud. "Papasha! Papasha!" she cried, facing every conceivable direction. "Where are you, Papasha?" After a moment of non-reply, she then darted towards my position. "Tovarisch! Where did you hide Papasha?" she demanded.

"Introduce yourself properly to the Kommandant, Sudaev!" ordered one of the two silver-haired T-Dolls who had followed after her.

"Muuuuuu!" Sudaev puffed her cheek. She took a moment to look about my person. As soon as her eyes fell upon my right sleeve, she sprung up straight and threw a salute. "PPS-43! I'll be serving under you from now on, Tovarisch Kommandir!" She then swiftly dropped her arm and fiercely demanded, "Now bring out Papasha!"

A yawn from behind. "What's with all that shouting?" Skorpion groggily asked as she descended the steps, with Sturmgewehr close behind. Sudaev immediately darted towards her. She seized Skorpion by her jacket's collar.

"Skorpion!" Sudaev cried.

"Wha...Stalin?" Skorpion stuttered.

Sudaev shook her violently. "Where did you hide Papasha?" She paused for a moment before shouting again, "And stop calling me Stalin!"

"She insisted on coming here." The silver-haired T-Doll informed as she stepped forward. Her green eyes had slit pupils, like a cat's. Her lips remained fixed in a stern frown. She saluted, "MG5." She then motioned towards the other silver-haired T-Doll who had accompanied her. "This is my Schwester, MG…"

"Cetin! Get down!"

A yellow blur brushed past my false arm. A comet uprooted MG5's sister. Skorpion and her landed three paces back with a loud thud, throwing up a cloud of dust.

"Skorpion!" MG5 barked, her cheeks flushed. "What are you doing? Get off my Schwester!"

Skorpion lifted herself slightly over the silver-haired doll, her hands pressing against the doll's face. "She's got yellow eyes!" she announced urgently. "Cetin! She's got yellow eyes!"

_Yellow-Eyes…silent...mockingly still._

"How does this explain your behaviour, Skorpion?" MG5 demanded.

"Commander doesn't react well to dolls with yellow eyes." M14 stood behind the helicopter's nose, eyes directed towards the vehicle's rear landing gear. "He can't look us in the eye. Something bad will happen to him if he does."

"Skorpion. Get off her."

"But!" Skorpion replied in half-panic.

"Please."

Skorpion puffed her cheek. "Fiiiiine…" she whined as she got off the lying T-Doll. Though freed from Skorpion's weight, the T-Doll remained still for about a minute.

"...MG4…" MG5 stepped towards her, sounding concerned.

"It's okay, Schwester," replied MG4 as she tucked her legs back and shakily pushed herself up. She brushed away the dust dirtying her oversized shirt and stood at attention while staring at the ground. "M...MG4…"

"MG4…" said MG5 softly.

"It's okay, Schwester. I will just be over there." MG4 departed for one of the huts.

MG5 sighed. "Kommandant," she started. "We are sent here under short notice to assist the defence of your base camp and to deliver this." She pulled out a black triangular prism canister about the length of her waist.

"URAAAAA!" Sudaev had darted away from the Church's steps towards the returning SVD, SV-98 and Papasha, past the helicopter. "Su...Sudaev!" Papasha cried in shock, just as Sudaev started raining hammer-blows onto her. "URAAAAA!"

"Morning, Fox." Pierre staggered towards us from a house to my eleven o'clock.

"Morning." He was carrying a steaming mug. "You weren't in the Mess Hall."

"Oh," the Tech Foreman raised his mug and his brow, "This? It's instant coffee." He took a sip, then lowered his cup. "I'll get some real coffee, don't you worry."

"...I see."

"So, who is the pretty lady?"

"MG5," replied the T-Doll, expressionless despite the flattery.

"Ah. Nice to meet you. I'm Pierre. Tech Foreman," he extended his hand.

She replied with a frigid stare.

"Quite the ice queen, isn't she?" he commented as he lowered his hand. Noting the canister in her grasp, he inquired, "Oh, is that from 16Lab?"

"I wouldn't know," MG5 replied.

Pierre glanced at the both of us, MG5 first, then myself. He lowered his mug. "Grapevine has it 16Lab's been working on some kind of next-generation support drone. I think this is it." He then turned towards MG5. "Is this it, MG5?"

"I wouldn't know," she replied, with nary a gesture. "My instructions are to courier this to the Kommandant. It is not my place to ask or to attempt ascertaining the package's identity."

Pierre sipped on his mug again. He shot me a glance, lowered his cup and explained, "Grapevine mentioned the drone folding up for easy-carry." He drank his coffee again. "This looks like it. Can I see it?"

MG5 glared in reply to his query. "For the Kommandant's eyes only. HQ's orders."

Palms withdrew the moment they touched its metallic surface. Its ends had folded ninety degrees and generated a tremendous amount of heat. Its four side plates then twisted down and extended out. Its camera at the centre then lit up.

"Woah," Skorpion uttered. "Cool."

A blue glow emitted from above the drone's camera unit, creating a projection of a slovenly-dressed woman. Coat slid off a shoulder, dishevelled turfed hair, ring around eyes.

"Ah...you must be the rumoured Commander. Pleased to meet you." Her tone did not carry the enthusiasm of her words.

"Wait a minute. Are we actually talking to _the _Persica?" Pierre's jaw was half-open, his eyes wide. He was in awe.

Persica cracked a grin. "That's right. Persica. 16Lab researcher." The turfs on her cranium...perked...stood up straight. Triangular...striped…

...cat ears?

"Head researcher." Blink. Pierre had leaned forward, close to my ear. He was frowning. His tone was that of reverence and admonishment. "Fox, behave yourself."

"...What does an IOP subsidiary scientist want with us?"

"16Lab's not some subsidiary!" Pierre's snapped urgently, his gaze an intense glare. He spoke as though I had blasphemed. "That research division is the very reason why we even have our T-Dolls!"

"...So she is to be blamed for Skorpion's disobedience."

A light punch on my true arm. Skorpion had puffed her cheek and glared at me with her single eye. "That one's your fault!" she scolded. "If you had treated us right from the start, none of that would have happened!"

Pierre spilt some of his coffee as he stifled his chuckle.

"Your mission is to retrieve some research data from these coordinates."

A brief silence. The lungs paused. Breaths held. Persica was unresponsive. Unfocused eyes, as though she was staring past us.

"Find someone else." The lungs exhaled, the throat felt dry. "We have our own matters to attend to."

The cat ears perked again. The eyes refocused. She smirked, "What if I provide M4A1's location in exchange?"

**0715**

Skorpion made a face. Closed eye, knitted brow, upper lip raised, clenched teeth exposed. She emitted a constipated sound before resuming sucking on the beige bag, which she had clutched so tightly its contents had evacuated onto the dusty ground.

It was an odourless grey sludge.

"Would it kill the manufacturer to at least flavour the MRE?" said Ingram, as she crumpled her MRE bag. She was glaring at Pierre.

"Don't look at me," Pierre shrugged. "I'm just a technician."

"Skorpion, stop making that face," Sturmgewehr chided as she dabbed Skorpion's cheek with a handkerchief. "You should follow my example," she continued before sucking on her own bag. She raised her head, craned her neck and scrunched up her face as though fighting a gag reflex.

"Kommandant," started MG5 sternly. "I must protest against holding a strategic meeting in the Mess Hall." She did not open her MRE bag.

"Command room isn't spacious enough to hold this briefing."

"You have invited too many irrelevant personnel," she criticised.

"Leave him alone," Lev said. He then took another bite off his MRE pack. His expression was neutral as he chewed up the portion and swallowed it. "He hasn't sorted out all the echelons and knowing him, he's going to brief us on more than just a search and rescue mission."

FNC inched closer towards Lev. She craned her neck towards his MRE pack, opened her mouth and was subsequently pulled back by FN49. "It's not good to steal another's food," she scolded. FNC gloomily sucked on her MRE bag.

"Without further ado, we will start with the briefing."

The projector lit up.

"Some of you may know, we are contacted by and receiving orders from a Grifon client."

"It's _Persica," _Pierre hissed.

"We are to search for research data from two coordinates."

Hevhj's map lit up on the white screen.

"The first coordinate is here." Pointed to the indicated spot north of the base camp. "Cliffside Forest. A cabin."

SVD grumpily sucked on her MRE bag.

"Is it not, SVD?"

Her lips pursed as she looked up. She nodded before resuming her consumption of her MRE.

"You are sure you didn't see anything peculiar inside when you searched it?"

"We didn't search it, Commander," SV-98 answered. "We just gave it a quick look over. We didn't see anything that looks like the research data."

"Did the client describe the storage format of this data?" Lev asked.

"Nope. She rambled about 'sugar cubes' instead," said Pierre.

"Huh," SVD uttered before returning to her meal. She knitted her brow the moment her mouth met the bag's.

Pierre drank his coffee before adding, "Persica also said something about, 'Will know once I see it.'"

"You will have to take the drone with you." I pointed at the folded up machine on the small table beside me. "Due to the nature of this mission, we are unable to conduct our search on two coordinates simultaneously. You are to take the drone to the cabin, wait for however long it takes for the client…"

"_Persica._"

MG5 shot Pierre a dirty look.

"Persica to reactivate the drone and conduct her search remotely."

"So, an escort mission," SVD frowned, dissatisfaction written all over her face. "I am to perform an escort mission."

"...Yes."

The sniper sighed. "I will get to it right away." She crumpled her MRE bag and got up.

"Not yet. SVD, you claimed the enemy has Prowlers posted in the forest."

"Nothing a hunter of my calibre can't handle, Commander."

"Oh?" FAL grinned as she rested her cheek on her palm. "Daring to show cheek to the Commander after last night?"

"SVD, you aren't deployed yet."

SVD blinked, then sat down.

Picked up the command tablet.

Echelon 3:

SVD x 1

SV-98 x 1

Adding OTs-12, FMG-9 and Sten Mk II. Finalised Echelon.

"This will be a covert mission."

"No dummies?"

"No dummies."

"Boss!" FMG-9 stood up. "I just heard 'Hehe, secret mission' over at the Zener! Am I teaming up with Tiss again?"

"Yes. You, Tiss and Sten will join SVD and SV-98. SVD, being the most familiar with the forest, will lead."

SVD smirked and spoke aloud, "I thought we don't have enough manpower to spare." FAL frowned. The statement was meant for her.

"We have enough manpower now, _paysanne_!" she retorted. "We have two more MGs!"

"Hey! _Bourgeoisie_! What about me?" Sudaev shouted from the back.

"Sestra!" exclaimed Papasha, beside her, in half-panic.

"But Boss!" FMG-9 started to protest. "Can't you send IDW instead?"

"You and Tiss are chosen for your experience."

"It's only one night of covert experience, Boss..."

"One night under my tutelage," FAL huffed. She then glared at the sniper. "Take care of them, SVD. I didn't take my time teaching them the in's and out's only for you to squander them."

SVD grumbled.

"There is a chance you might run into Hunter."

She perked up.

"If you encounter her, lure her out of the forest and rendezvous with Team FAL. Am I understood?"

She deflated. "...Yes, Commander."

Picked up the drone and gave it to her. "You will travel on foot. Return immediately once you recovered the data. Team SVD, deploy now."

"Try not to let me steal your kill, _paysanne_," FAL heckled.

"...Shut up," SVD retorted as she walked past her. Her teammates got up from their seats and followed her out. FAL grinned smugly as she settled down.

"As soon as Team SVD returns, Team HK416 and Team FAL will depart to the next coordinate. A mine in T04..."

**0930**

Blue blinking blips in the forest.

Liquid poured into a metal cup.

Dry compacted flour scraped the tongue. Water soothed the throat.

"Team SVD to Command," said the voice on the headset. On the micro-drone feed, SVD, SV-98, Tiss, FMG-9 and Sten were approaching a wood-and-stone cabin. "We have arrived at our destination."

Metal cup rung hollow against the desk.

"Heh heh," chuckled Tiss. "Secret weapons still remaining secret."

FMG-9 shot her a dirty look.

"Tiss, FMG-9, Sten," SVD commanded. Her tone was harsh, authoritative. "Take point," she gestured. "Silent entry."

"Oh?" Fleet feet pitter-pattered. Skorpion slipped up behind me from my right. "Are they breaching now?" She said with anticipation. She smelled strongly of caffeine.

FMG-9 cautiously creaked a small crack. Moments later, the three T-Dolls filed into the cabin with weapons raised.

"Team SVD to Command. Cabin's clear," said SVD as she strode towards the door. The micro-drone followed. Its feed shifted from peeling bark to dusty shelf, from the leaf-carpeted ground to termite-nibbled floorboards.

"Command to Team SVD. Place the drone on the table and commence with the search."

"Ho...we aren't the first visitors here in a while," said Tiss. With her gun-barrel, she pointed at the footprints pressed into the thick layers of dust and mould.

"SV-98 and I were here last night," replied SVD as she placed the drone onto the dust-covered table.

"These do not look like your footprints, team lead," Tiss said. "There's also a layer of dust on them."

"So you noticed." SVD sounded impressed. "Very sharp eyes, you have got there." She slung her rifle onto her shoulder.

"Heh heh," Tiss grinned. "I'll make a great NKVD officer, da?"

SVD frowned, rolled her eyes and turned her attention to the drone. FMG-9 cracked a brief grin before looking about. SV-98 smiled uncomfortably.

"Think we might find fugitives under the floorboards?" Tiss said as she leaned onto the creaking floorboard.

"Shut it, Tiss," FMG-9 scolded, as she turned over a moss-covered quilt. "We aren't looking for dissidents; we are looking for data-storage devices."

"Got to recover those state secrets, yes, Tovarisch?" said Tiss, cheekily. FMG-9 scowled. Another floorboard creaked under Tiss' weight. FMG-9 muttered under her breath as she swung open a mouldy trunk.

"This is more boring than I thought," Skorpion remarked. She then drank her twentieth cup of coffee. "When's Cat-Lady gonna call?"

SVD started tapping on the drone. Upon the third tap on its camera unit, it unfolded into its active stage. The projector on its head did not light up. She gave it several more taps, grumbled to herself, before moving away to pry open a closet. SV-98 stared at her for a moment before resuming turning over drawers.

"She left no means to contact her."

"Not even on the drone?" inquired Skorpion.

"Not even on the drone."

The gnawing on my thigh dwindled into an itch.

"Ehhhhh," Skorpion whined. She emptied her cup. "I'll go back to packing my gear." She was wearing a pair of bandoliers packed with incendiary grenades.

"...You look silly," I found myself remarking.

"No, I look cool!" Skorpion posed like an action hero. "I look just like the machine gun bandana guy from the jungle movie!"

The bandoliers were too large and loose, like serpents languidly coiling around a small dog. "Lose them," I said. "They are a liability."

"But I look so cool!" Skorpion grinned smugly. "Lookit!" She tried drawing one of the incendiaries from the bandolier's hoop. She blinked. Her smile looked blank. "Eh?" The entire bandolier lifted like the trenchcoat of a shady weapons dealer. "Ehhhhh?" she uttered again, as she struggled against the bandolier's hoop.

The radio sounded. "Northern Checkpoint to Command. Performing scheduled radio check."

Pushed its button. "Command to Northern Checkpoint. Transmission received."

"Northern Checkpoint to Command. Good to hear. Will check back again in a half-hour."

The radio sputtered statics.

Sten lifted a lid on a small ceramic container and peered into it. Her shoulders jumped. She picked up the bowl and hurried to the table. "Found something, Sten?" SVD asked. "Yes!" she responded excitedly as she turned the container over. She then put the bowl aside and picked up a metallic cube now sitting on the table.

"Ooooooh," Tiss cooed.

"Sten to Command," Sten cried as she lifted the cube towards the microdrone. "Is this it?"

The 16Lab drone's projector lit up, and the cat-eared researcher emerged. It was as though she had been listening in. "So, you found it," she said. "Hats off to you, fine T-Dolls." Her attempts at sounding impressed failed dismally. "Feed the cube into the port of this drone," she started instructing. "The port is behind the camera unit…"

_60mg of oxycodone, every 12 hours, to numb the pain. Next administration...about 2130. Mikhail will control my intake of the painkiller. Not wanting to get me addicted to it, he said._

…

_Perhaps I should have just let the pain be if the alternative is a shackle to flour-tasting pills._

_..._

_MG5's taking the Southern Checkpoint, point B. Cover point A's retreat. She insisted on facing the enemy's main offensive, should the siege come to pass. Sudaev...PPS-43, she will assist Sturmgewehr at Northern Checkpoint. She did not sound pleased with the order._

_Northern Checkpoint's orders...check back every half-hour via radio. If I do not reply, they are to bury the cliff-pass they are covering the moment the Sangvis reach mid-point. Activate the charges Papasha had planted. Then, withdraw to North Junction and cover for Northern Cliffside._

_MG4's taking Northern Cliffside. Plenty of open fields to cover there._

…

_...Another doll with yellow eyes. _

_..._

_I had spoken to Pierre about the matter. There are many more T-Dolls with yellow eyes. _

…

_Team SVD had recovered these 'sugar cubes' for Persica. Storage devices that looked like sugar cubes, with the same dimensions. Considering the gap between Sten finding it and Team SVD being cleared to return to base, the sugar cube stores a stupendous amount of data. _

_All that data, packed into something the size of a sugar cube. This is only half of what Persica is looking for. _

_What had M4A1 uncovered in that safehouse? _

…

_On the subject of Persica, She's a strange woman. Absent-minded, loses interest easily, like one of the stereotypical mad scientists from the science fiction short stories Phillipes used to deliver to me. Seeing that she has...articulated cat ears, poorly masquerading as striped turfs of hair...I suppose she is._

…

_Why graft on cat ears?_

_..._

…

_M4A1 supposedly is one of her personal projects. _

…

_What kind of Doll would she be? Another eccentric? _

…

_On the subject of M4A1, there's no doubt now it was her FNC and FN49 encountered two days ago. She had been in the cabin. She must have observed the activity at Hevhj and knew of our presence here. Why not seek refuge with us? Why flee and prolong her tribulation?_

_Is she compromised, perhaps?_

_..._

_Perhaps I will find these answers once we secure her — the nature of this data and the reason behind M4A1's behaviour. And if M4A1 is as eccentric as her...supposed creator._

…

_Team SVD will arrive at the Town Square, ETA five minutes. I best get ready. _

_Skorpion had already left to join her team. They will depart to T04 as soon as Team SVD arrive. _

_Our target is in the mining in T04. There is a Sangvis garrison there, concentrated at the southern edge, facing the road. Jaegers in the houses, Prowlers and Scouts patrolling the plains just outside. _

_Sparse patrol at the river on the north-western side of the village. The river is traversable by bridge. _

_Clearing the town in fifteen minutes, probably doable. Best do this quickly and prepare ourselves for the enemy response. Executioner and Hunter may lead this response in person, like two days ago._

_Watch over us, Captain._

**1215**

The Prowlers and Scouts diverted away from their patrol routes and raced towards Siskin 2. Casings rang in the helo as BAR and her dummy emptied their box magazines at them.

"Drop us down here, _mon bel oiseau_," FAL instructed, easygoing despite the fast-approaching peril. The helo descended onto the road, just out of range of the Jaegers. FAL and her dummies hopped off first, under BAR's cover fire. She then lifted her weapon, took aim and fired three grenades in quick succession. More of the Scouts' and Prowlers' blips vanished from the tactical map.

"Alright, _mes petits soldats_, deploy as planned!"

The rest of Team FAL hopped off the hatch, save two of M14's dummies. "Anatoli, strafe the village," she said as she pulled back the bolt of her rifle. The helo left the ground and made its sidewards low-altitude approach towards the settlement. As soon as the transport got close enough, M14's two dummies fired volleys upon volleys at the houses.

Long energy beams struck out from these houses, striking the hull of the helo and one of M14's dummies. An explosion erupted from the windows of two of these houses. "BAR, what are you doing?" FAL's calmness was compromised, given way to exasperation.

"Gee, team lead. You shouldn't rush me." BAR's reply punctuated with the snap of her box magazine.

Another series of explosions. A Jaeger's body fell off the window and landed before FAL with a loud thud, mangled like a mauled doll. "Look at what you made me do, _fille paresseuse_. I had to kill six of them for you."

"Yesh yesh…" BAR languidly replied.

FAL sighed. "Just suppress the Jaegers two houses to our left."

"Ehhh...but that's…" BAR fell silent, suddenly deliberative. "Yesh...team lead."

The Vespids and Rippers drew away from the rest of the village towards the southern perimeter. I tapped on my headset.

"Command to Siskin 1. Deploy Team HK416 as we had discussed."

The helo's blip rapidly approached the waypoint across the bridge into the village from the North-westernmost edge of the tactical map. Realising their sudden predicament, the Sangvis en-route to the southern perimeter turned back.

"Team HK416 to Command. Entering the village as planned."

Team HK416 rapidly crossed the bridge and met the Sangvis resistance. The advancing Rippers were quickly gunned down by HK416, G11 and FNC.

Ingram and Skorpion split from the rest of the team. They moved to flank the Vespids further down the road via the alleys and houses.

"G11, keep moving!" shouted HK416, pushing the aforementioned T-Doll forward. "We are working under a strict timetable!" She then fired her grenade at another advancing mob of Rippers, charging in from her right.

"Ehhhhh," G11 whined as she hurried after her team leader.

Another explosion in the south, tearing through the ranks of Rippers and Vespids. Papasha and MP40 charged through the next blockade and held their position. MP40's incendiary ignited at the feet of the charging Rippers, preventing them from plugging the breach.

"You are dragging us down, BAR!" FAL shouted as she reloaded her grenade launcher. "Can't you reload any faster, you _paresseuse salope_? You are using box magazines!"

"Ehhhhh, but FAL...we are doing just fine," BAR whined as she rechambered her gun.

A single Ripper, missing an arm, was struck in the head as she tried sneaking up on BAR. "Because everyone else is pulling their weight!" reprimanded FAL as she reloaded her magazine. "Sacre bleu!"

1230\. Team HK416 and Team FAL boxed the Sangvis in the village plaza. The combined weight of BAR's and G11's fire kept them suppressed. Any attempts to take potshots were swiftly halted by M14, supporting the echelons from aboard Siskin 2.

1235\. The detonation of HK416's grenade signalled the end of the Sangvis resistance.

"Great work team!" Skorpion cried. "We finished them off nice and easy!"

"We are five minutes behind schedule," FAL commented as she glared at BAR. "No thanks to _someone _dragging her feet." BAR rubbed the back of her scalp and laughed softly. FAL scowled at her in return. She did not seem to notice HK416 doing the same at G11.

"Team HK416 to Command…" FAL swore under her breath. HK416 glanced at her, her expression still frozen. She continued, "...Reporting village cleared."

"Command to Team FAL, guard the perimeter. Team HK416, send Skorpion and Ingram to scout the mine. Skorpion, take the drone. Rest, reinforce Team FAL. Siskin 1 and 2, be our eyes."

**1327**

"Southern Checkpoint to Command." Eyes torn from the tactical map to the printed illustration of Hevhj environs. "We have engaged and eliminated ten Prowlers and ten Scouts." Picked up the marker. "Springfield sighted five Jaegers holding position three hundred metres south. Behind the tank carcass down the road."

Indicators added around the stated landmark on the map.

"No further activities."

"Understood. Observe them for now. Command out."

No movement at the mine entrance in Team HK416's feed. Skorpion and Ingram had not emerged from its depths. Team FAL's feeds aimed towards the road out of the village. Twenty Scouts were on patrol, just out of M14's range. On the tactical map, Siskin 1's blip winked on from the top-leftmost edge, heading towards the village with fresh supplies and dummies. Around the settlement, some five hundred metres away, red blips scattered sparsely. Vespids and Jaegers laid in wait in loose formation.

Picked up the radio. "Command to Northern Checkpoint. Sitrep."

Statics. "Northern Checkpoint to Command. The same twenty or so Prowlers were sitting around the plains. Movement in the forest, still no ID."

"Anything else?"

"Sudaev just thanked Sturmgewehr. Something about informing her about Papasha."

"...I see. Keep observing the enemy's movement. Command out."

The radio fell silent.

Micro-drone zoom function readjusted. The feeds showed Team FAL, minus BAR, covering the frontmost row of houses, with Team HK416, minus Ingram and Skorpion, lying in wait in the second row of houses. Siskin 2 hovered overhead, bearing BAR and her dummies. They were to suppress Hunter as BAR's teammates draw Executioner in towards Team HK416, before disengaging to flank Hunter's position. The tactic required Team HK416 to encircle and tie Executioner down, but its execution required Skorpion's and Ingram's presence.

They must complete their search soon. Within the next five minutes, preferably.

Returned to the map on the desk. Hevhj. Prowlers and Scouts to the north, Jaegers to the south, movement in the Cliffside Forest. Team SVD reported seeing Vespids, Rippers and more Jaegers coming in from the north-east and south-east.

A small-scale attack against the Southern Checkpoint, easily repelled. A probing action by the Sangvis, to test its resilience. No movement against the Northern Checkpoint. The ringleaders must have predicted the difficulty of sieging this position.

Northern Cliffside...all quiet.

These movements were in response to our activities in T04. Imminent siege a diversion from T04, or to force our abandonment of it? Or perhaps...

Pressed the button on the holo-communicator. Kalina's projection winked on a second later. "Commander?" Her smile, initially brilliant, slowly faded. She looked dishevelled. Bangs rolled up, jacket hastily thrown on. "Kalina," I started. "Get me the most current footages of every zone of subsector 2."

She nodded. "It'll be a minute," she replied.

As soon as her projection evaporated, the contraption beeped aloud. Persica's image rose from the machine the moment it was silenced. She brought her cup to her mouth and inhaled a mouthful of its contents. Her 'ears' twitched as she spoke, "You have found it."

On the feed, Skorpion and Ingram had gathered by a railcar with the drone. It too had projected Persica's image. "Woah," Skorpion remarked as the drone twitched and shuddered, likely in response to her actions. "Is she talking to us?"

The printer whirled to life.

"As promised, I will provide M4A1's location," Persica continued. She inhaled another mouthful of her beverage. "It will be just a mo..."

The radio flared to life. "Southern Checkpoint to Command, more Prowlers and Scouts are pushing towards our position. Jaegers leaving their cover to support them. Springfield's engaging them now. We are seeing Vespids and Rippers moving in from the north-east."

"Northern Checkpoint to Command. Enemy's on the move. Vespids and Rippers have emerged from the Cliffside Forest."

Red blips converged on the village on the tactical map.

"Command to all defenders, engage the enemy as planned." Tapped on the headset.

Headset came to life. "Siskin 2 to Command, Sangvis on the move. No signs of Executioner or Hunter."

"Command to Team FAL and Team HK416," Retrieved the stack of print outs, "Engage the enemy, but be prepared to withdraw. BAR, provide cover fire."

"Yesh, Commander."

"FAL to BAR, I did not see your tracers. Pull that trigger!"

"Awww...FAL, don't be so impatient. It takes time to decide on priority targets." A brief silence. "Alright~ Got it."

Siskin 2 roared into activity. Tracers discharged from two barrels, delay between each, scythed through the advancing Prowler and Scout horde. Scouts nimbly dodged BAR's fire and were swiftly disabled by M14 and her dummies. Red blips winked out on the main screen.

Flipped through the printouts. T01 cleared of any activity. T02...Hevhj. T03...Sangvis echelons marching towards three directions. About forty. Twenty echelons towards the south-west...Hevhj. Fifteen towards north-east. T04. Five, also towards the south-east.

Another series of beeps. Helianthus' image emerged beside Persica's. "Commander Yilmaz. I see you have been busy." She angled her head towards Persica. "Persica, was your mission accomplished?"

"Just a mo..." Persica mumbled.

"Be quick. The Sangvis are already on the move."

Flipped through the printouts again. T05, six Sangvis echelons. Four headed westwards towards Hevhj. Two moving eastwards towards…

"Ah." Persica's 'ears' perked. "Got it. The access code to M4's beacon. She's in…"

T06. Burned fields. Manor on the cliff, the same which had hosted Scarecrow's server blocks.

"Command to Team HK416, Team FAL, Siskin 1 and Siskin 2. Withdraw from the AO and redeploy in T06."

Blue blips took to the street. Siskin 1 had landed in the village plaza. FNC and G11 peeled away Team FAL's pursuers. Incendiaries ignited, blocking the enemy advance. BAR continued to fire as Siskin 2 landed. The echelons departed as the fire extinguished.

"You move fast," Persica commented, with a brow raised and her 'ears' perked. She grinned, "Seems Kryuger's investment is paying off."

Helianthus shot a glare at the researcher. She started sternly, "Commander Yilmaz, HQ has decided to delegate the task of extracting M4A1 to you. You are to deploy in T06, secure M4A1 and withdraw to HVQQJ." Her nostrils flared. "A Mi-26 will be dispatched to extract her and your people. You are to hold out until it arrives."

"M4 is very important to me." Persica was frowning. "Do make sure you succeed. If you pull this off," she smirked, "I'll invite you over for a cuppa. Good luck, Commander." Her image winked out.

Helianthus sighed. "I advise against taking her up on her offer." She pursed her lips and knitted her brow as she considered her next words. "Do not disappoint us. Helianthus out."

"Ingram to Command," sounded the headset. "Hey, Cetin! I want to make a deal."

Inhaled.

"HK416 to Ingram. Sound off."

Exhaled.

"Speak."

"Heh," Ingram smirked at HK416 in the feed. "Right. Ingram to Command. If we pull this off, I want you to give me a fistbump. Promise?"

Skorpion had cracked a grin.

T06's coordinate punched into the tactical map. Siskin 1 and 2 had entered its airspace.

The radio sounded, "Northern Checkpoint to Command. Retreating to point B."

The ground shook. Dirt rained from the ceiling.

Sighed. Tapped on the headset. "Command to Ingram. Only if you return with M4A1. Command out."

"Alright! That's a promise!" Ingram and Skorpion pumped their fists. HK416 shook her head and redirected her attention to the napping G11.

Sangvis Echelons swarmed around the foot of the cliff. Reinforcements arrived from the north-west and west, T04 and T05, and from the south-east...from subsector 1.

A suitable landing zone...a clear spot...

"Command to transports and offence teams. Drop the T-Dolls at the centre of the burned field. M14, BAR, leave one of your dummies on Siskin 2. Siskin 1, scout the perimeter and interior of the manor."

Sangvis Echelons responding to the helos. Prowlers and Scouts moved to intercept, with Dinergates coming in to reinforce. On the feeds, tracers flared, and grenades flew. Red blips winked out on the tactical map.

Incendiaries caught a small fraction of Dinergates. The rest of the horde had split into two groups. They flowed around the immolated spots in the attempt to encircle the echelons. The submachine-gunners and their dummies rushed to put themselves between the animal-like machines and their compatriots.

BAR, with uncharacteristic swiftness, placed her dummies around the two echelons and started gunning down the charging Dinergates. M14 dummies turned their guns towards the cliff-face and started firing at the repositioning Jaegers.

"Team FAL and Team HK416 to Command," FAL started. "We have cleared the LZ. M14 is trading fire with the Jaegers at the bottom of the cliff-face to our east. Where to?"

Activity in the manor grounds.

"Command to Siskin 1, visuals on Executioner?"

"Siskin 1 to Command. Visuals on shockwave and flashes from the manor's second storey window."

M4A1.

"Command to Siskin 1, sweep the perimeter and search for alternative entry points."

"Siskin 1 to Command. Ahead of you. Cliff-faces everywhere. Seems our Dolls have to kick in the front door."

The ground shook, the ceiling rained dirt and dust once more.

"Northern Cliffside to Command," the radio sounded. "Seeing detonation from Northern Checkpoint. They aren't responding to our hails. Northern Cliffside still clear."

"Command to Northern Cliffside. Understood."

Rippers moved to surround the LZ. Vespids following close. Jaegers…

_Thunder cracked in the cloudless sky. Blood splattered onto my left cheek. _

...Jaegers filling the manor's lower terrace.

Inhaled. Exhaled.

Blood on my lip. True finger on the headset.

"Command to Team FAL and Team HK416; you have to break through the front. Team FAL, vanguard. Clear the path for Team HK416. Ingram, provide smoke cover as soon as you get within Jaeger range. M14, BAR, support the advance from Siskin 2. Priority targets, Jaegers."

The blue blips started moving towards the manor. Gunfire and energy bolts flashed on the feeds. Smoke partially concealed their advance. Ingram dummies intercepted fire meant for the rest of her comrades. Rifle report from above, partially drowned by Siskin 2's rotors.

Inhaled. Exhaled. Turned the dial.

"Command to Team SVD. Sitrep."

SVD's reply came in amidst the thundering gunfire. "Team SVD to Command. Very busy right now. Jaegers trying to reach the roof by scaling point A's debris."

Ringing in the ear. Report of her rifle.

"Who can you spare?"

"FMG-9 and Sten. Team Springfield, MG5, Tiss and the Aux Guards have left them with nothing to do."

Three explosions from three grenades, fired in quick succession, gouged a gap in the enemy lines. Submachine-gunners and Rippers clashed as they filed in to secure the breach.

"Understood. FMG-9, take your dummies and scout out Northern Checkpoint. Get Lev to lend transport."

"...Boss? You sure?"

Skorpion sprawled on the ground. Coolant and fragment of skull spilt all over the dirt and grass.

_Hassan crumpled onto the bloodied sand. Half his face was gone._

"Go, FMG-9."

Blink. Sten's voice on the radio.

"IDW and I will cover for you."

BAR's weapon roared. The Jaeger dismembered by her fire. Another Skorpion, drenched in red, pulled the pin and reared back. Incendiary sailed towards the advancing mob. Rippers and Vespids consumed by flame.

Blue covered the red.

"Yes, Boss," FMG-9's reply came with some hesitation.

More smoke shrouded the struggle for superior ground.

"Moving now."

The radio fell silent.

Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. Slowly.

"Team FAL to Command," the headset emitted. "We have reached the slope."

FAL on the feeds. HK416 and G11 passed by her. She signalled MP40 and Papasha to clear the cabins to her right. Her dummies scattered and took their positions atop the cliff's ledge, where the Jaegers once stood. M14's dummies followed.

The stump burned. The false fingers ached. Gnawing in the false limbs.

Pinch. Feeds zoomed out.

Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. Tapped the headset. The throat burned, the lungs groaned.

"Command to Team FAL. Hold your position. Team HK416, get Ingram to the manor, then clear the manor grounds."

"Cetin." Skorpion. She sounded concerned. Uncertain. "You sound weird. What happened?"

The pulse had raised. True hand trembled. Sweat on the brow.

"...Command to Skorpion." Voice like sandstorm, scouring the throat. "Focus on the mission. Out."

Inhaled. Counted to three. Exhaled. Slowly. Into the palms.

Blue blips separated. One cluster on the top of the slope, spreading out to cover the terrace. Another cluster pushed towards the Courtyard.

Red blips gathered to meet them. A clear circle erupted in their midst.

On the feed, HK416 had launched her grenade, moments before curtain smoke engulfed her.

Additional red blips winked out. Three Skorpions and four Ingrams had rushed ahead of the group.

The pulse quickened.

Gun flashed on the feed. Ingrams charged out of concealment and through the shattered double gate.

"Team HK416 to Command!" It was Skorpion's voice. "We have cleared the Courtyard. We are doing fine!"

"Get off the comms, Skorpion," HK416 scolded. "Courtyard cleared. Ingram has entered the manor. We are taking our positions now."

"Hurry up, Kraut!" FAL shouted. "M14 reported seeing another wave of Sangvis entering the AO from Subsector 1!"

"Direct that to Ingram," HK416 replied coolly. A short, uneasy pause. "Team HK416, get ready."

A single red blip exited the manor, at high velocity. Executioner had fallen out of the third storey window, with Ingram hanging on to her. She was without her sword.

They struggled. Ingram plunged her knife into her opponent's shoulder. The cobblestones cracked upon their landing, their forms shrouded by dust.

Ingram flinched, her neck bent at an unnatural angle.

Executioner leapt onto her feet. Leapt and soared, propelled by a force which had uprooted the cobbles beneath her. She skidded across the Courtyard, gouging a scar along her path. Her dismembered right arm landed close with a bounce.

Incendiary ignited. Molten flesh sloughed off her back. Gunfire from multiple directions. FNC's emptied their magazines, reloaded and fired again. G11's capacities seemed limitless. Skorpions encircled Executioner, in constant motion. Running and gunning. The weight of their projectiles tore at the Ringleader, ripping off metallic chunks.

Executioner got up. The Skorpions scattered, moments before the grenade struck. Cobbles uprooted, the dry fountain crumbled. HK416 reloaded her grenade.

Executioner got up again. She fell, her right leg was torn off.

The guns fell silent. M4A1 strode out of the double-gate, holding the smoking gun, with a bleeding Ingram following close behind. M4A1 rubbed the stain off her cheek as she closed towards the fallen Ringleader.

Executioner dragged herself towards the fountain's edge. M4A1 dragged her back, turned her around. She stomped and dug her heel into the Ringleader's chest. They spoke. She raised her gun. The Ringleader's head snapped back to the ringing gunfire. Coolant pooled in the cratered fountain, like seeping blood.

The radio sounded. "FMG-9 to Command. Boss! We've found Northern Checkpoint. They are holding position at the junction."

"Northern Checkpoint to Command. Sangvis troopers still pushing our position, but they seemed to have lost their drive and all semblance of tactical thinking. Just roving towards our position on auto-pilot. Did we win?"

Red blips ceased moving in unity. Reinforcements from Subsector 1 trickled like dripping tap water, then stopped entirely.

The heartbeat against the ribcage. Gnawing in the false limbs. Sweat on brow.

Inhaled. Count to three. Exhaled. Picked up the radio. The throat felt parched.

"Command to all defenders. Executioner is dead. Hunter still unseen. M4A1 recovered."

Closed the mouth. Inhaled. Exhaled. The pulse slowed.

"We have won."

**1507**

A blue glint reflected on the empty shot glass.

Its light flowed with the clear liquid.

The bottle rang hollow.

"That's not the face of a victor."

Azure glow shimmered in her silver eyes.

"I'm not getting any praise for my efforts, hmm?"

"I have yet to see your handiwork."

SVD folded her arms. "You can't see it without leaving your chair."

Burning in my throat. The chair creaked. Throbbing under the stitch, aching in the false limbs. Heavy feet dragged up the steps, one after another, from the stale air into the arid wind. It carried an iron-tinted scent, barely masked by an anaesthetic stench.

_Swivels and creaks. A small bump. The broom laid further down the hallway, untouched for a very long time. _

_Captain's face was a mask. His eyes were low, his brows knitted. _

_The ajar door creaked open. The sun filtered through tattered blinds, illuminating the mats below._

Stefan leaned on his steel chair. The odour of anaesthesia emanating from his dressings barely masked the scent of burned fat. On his lap, an exhausted IDW rested her head. With his good hand, he absent-mindedly stroked her hair. He responded to my footsteps. "Commander," he greeted wearily.

Prone on the mat beside him, with a white towel on his face, was Oleksiy.

"_Don't be too hard on yourself," said Captain. His firm voice carried a tinge of sorrow. "Accidents happen. Mistakes happen. You can't plan for everything." _

"You there?" Lev looked concerned. "Back to reality, Fox."

He was holding a glass of vodka. He lifted the glass to his lips and gulped a mouthful. "The oaf tripped," he started. "He tripped. Springfield got the Ripper who did this but…well…"

Another gulp. "She tried to get him out. Got clipped herself. Lost three dummies to the Jaegers just outside the blockade. Must have lost concentration. Stefan, well, you can guess…"

Still holding the glass, he pointed at IDW. She was missing her right arm. "She saved them. Bought time for SVD and SV-98 to cover the retreat. They nailed her while she was withdrawing with us."

Another gulp. "Kept fighting regardless. Helped hold point B, while damaged like that. Brave kitty." A dry chuckle. IDW's left ear, brushed by Stefan, had twitched and wriggled. "She deserves that."

"Why didn't you mention this in your radio reports?"

"Don't want to distract you." Lev drank his vodka again. "You needed to concentrate on looking after Team HK416 and Team FAL."

Chopping in the wind. Rotors drawing close. "Boss," FMG-9 saluted, and I nodded as I passed by her.

Buffeted by the dried leaves, dust and debris the moment I crossed the threshold. Landing gears pressed against the cobbles. The hatches opened, and the victors filed out.

"Commander," Ingram was the first to reach the bottom steps. Her right hand pressed on the hardened foam on her left abdomen. Her left arm was limp. She wore a pained, but triumphant smile. "We brought M4. We did well, yeah?"

With a sigh, I raised my left fist. "Keeping the promise."

"Heh," she smirked. We bumped our fists together.

Skorpion kept a wide berth as she headed towards the double-gate. Her movement sneaky, like a thief in daylight. "Skorpion," I said. She froze. The red stain scarcely concealed the leaden worry she carried. She smiled furtively, her single eye looking away.

_An iridescent beam struck Skorpion, fracturing her skull. Fragments ejected like shrapnel; coolant splattered on the dirt and grass — red splatters, red like blood._

"Eh...Cetin? You alright?" her voice devoid of her usual energy. "Should I…" Uncertainty, worry, concern for my well-being.

I raised my true arm, curled its fingers into a fist. She blinked. "You've earned it," I said. She looked at her own fist. With a reluctant smile, she brought it forward. We knocked our knuckles together. "You did alright," I said. "Heh…" she rubbed her head. She wore a shaky smile. "You are pretty good."

She lowered her arm. "Fistbump still needs practice, though."

"Commander." HK416 had stopped beside me. She was carrying G11 on her back. "She's been sleeping like that since we got on the helo," Ingram commented. HK416 frowned upon hearing her remark.

FAL was scolding BAR as she marched her out of Siskin 2. Papasha hurried after them, speaking urgently. Sudaev, who was waiting by the fountain, pounced on her the moment she exited the helo. As soon as she saw MP40, she turned Papasha away and snarled at her.

HK416 stared silently. Green eyes filled with embarrassment. "I didn't fulfil my promise…" "Your leadership is still instrumental to her defeat." Her expression lit up.

"Good work."

A brief smile, quickly replaced with a frown. She looked back, then hurriedly departed.

"Are you...the Grifon Commander?" A T-Doll in green and khaki ascended the steps towards us. She looked away, seemingly nervous. "What did...M16 say to do again?" she mumbled to herself. Her demeanour was unlike when she pulled the trigger on Executioner.

A slap on my back. "Yea, he is the gloomy Commander we mentioned," said Ingram.

"Oi, Ingram," chided Skorpion. "Way to ruin the impression."

"What?" Ingram shrugged her shoulders. "I'm telling the truth, is all." She then turned towards the newcomer. "Don't worry, M4," she said with a snicker. "Old Fox's got fangs, but he doesn't bite without reason."

"Oi…" Skorpion gave her a dirty look.

M4 exhaled. Her expression hardened. "Right." She threw a salute.

"Allow me to introduce myself. Tactical Doll M4A1."


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**1600**

"I expect a full after-action report by tomorrow 1800. Helianthus, out." Her last words before she winked out.

The glass clinked against the desk. Bottle rang hollow, burning in the throat. Sporadic radio statics broke the monotony of turbine hums. Red blips drifted aimlessly on the tactical map. Skorpion by the left wall, drinking her coffee. M4A1 was absent. She wasn't due for the debrief for another half hour.

"Take care of the Command Room while I am gone."

Skorpion threw an informal salute, before resuming drinking her coffee. She had emptied another three thermoses since she returned.

"Are MRE's this unpalatable?"

She nodded vigorously. "Very. They taste like flour mixed with glue."

"...I see. Don't drink too much. You won't be able to sleep."

"Wasn't planning to!" she declared, very sincerely.

"No drinking after 1630."

"Awwww…" her twin pigtails seemingly drooped.

The true leg groaned — a throb with every step. Radiant sunlight stung the eyes, dry wind carrying an anaesthetic odour.

Desolation in the hall. Stefan and Oleksiy were gone, only the lingering anaesthetic stench as a reminder of their presence. Springfield absent, only Sten and FNC at the counter. HK416 silently chewed on her pastry, with P7 creeping up on her. MG5 at the far corner, beside MG4. She laid her hand on her sibling's shoulder and offered some words of consolation. MG4 ignored her, preferring to stare silently at her thighs.

M14 sat under the same row of benches, hugging her knees. She had made herself smaller, as though hoping to avoid notice. A dog-tag glimmered dully in her grasp. "Please stay away," she said upon sensing my approach. She averted her gaze. "We don't want any more people getting hurt."

"I'm sorry." She continued to stare at the dog-tag. "For Oleksiy and Stefan."

"Mmmhmmm," she shook her head. "Things like these happen sometimes."

"I see…"

A crash behind me, followed by a distinct laugh. P7's.

"Hey, Commander," she said suddenly. "Will Stefan come back?"

"What did Mikhail say?"

"He said...Stefan won't be with us for three months and…" she hugged her knees tighter. "He might not come back again."

"...Tell him this, then."

P7 yelped. Stamping feet. HK416's angry voice.

"Tell him...you will finish Oliver Twist and you will only return it to him upon his return."

Her sad frown turned into a mournful smile. "We will." She kept averting her eyes.

Inhaled. Exhaled. Headed towards the counter.

"...but Springfield's instruction was very clear. Only one brownie per meal."

"Ehhhhh? Sten, I deserve three extra brownies! I missed the breakfast brownie and the lunch brownie and..."

"Commander!" Sten stood in rapt attention. FNC immediately fell silent. Sten drifted to my side of the counter. She was wearing a warm smile. "How can I help you? We have brownies, cinnamon rolls and…"

"I wish to use the kitchen."

She blinked. "Pardon?"

"I wish to use the kitchen," I repeated.

She blinked again. "Ah, okay."

"Commander~der~der," FNC uttered, repeating the last syllable like a castanet. She had rested her chin on the table. She was wearing a small, smug smile. "I helped take out Executioner, didn't I? Get me a brownie~."

"FNC…" Frustration leaked from Sten's smile.

"Ah, there you are." FN49 walked up to the kitchen counter. Her hair was damp and tangled, as though she had just gotten out of the shower. "Come on. Don't disturb Sten just because Miss Springfield is away." She seized FNC by her armpits. FNC thrashed about as FN49 dragged her away. "But FN49, my brownie~."

As soon as they left the premise, Sten twirled towards me with a slight sway, "So, Commander, what are you making?"

"Tea. For the guest."

"Guest as in M4?" Sten tilted her head, curious brown eyes glittered. I nodded. She beamed. "Ah. Come this way. I think she kept the tea in…"

Jars on the rightmost long table, furthest from the two stoves and ovens, labelled with neat handwriting. Chamomile, Earl Grey, Jasmine…

"Ah, those are the ones!" She fussed as she picked up and inspected one of them, "What did Springfield say about tea again?"

Jar popped open. It's proximity engulfed in a fresh peppermint scent. China teapot in the middle of the table. Opened its lid, inserted a handful of leaves, brought it to a water dispenser. Steam poured out of its mouth as water flowed into the pot.

"Sten, a tray, please."

"Stop!"

Springfield at the counter. Her clothes looked newly pressed, not a cut, nary a speck of dirt. She passed the desk, snatched the teapot and threw out its contents into a barrel. There was no comfort in her smile. "You cannot serve peppermint tea without first crushing the leaves," she said as she washed the teapot and returned it to the table.

"Sten, the mortar and pestle, please."

Sten blinked, then hurriedly searched about for the requested apparatuses. "Found it," she said. The mortar landed on the table with a dull bang. "How many persons?" Springfield asked, still with the mask-like smile. "Three," I replied. Without any further words, she fished out thirty leaves from the jar with a pair of tongs and dropped them in a filter.

"Seven to ten leaves per person." She said, as though reading off a script. She washed the leaves with water from a cold kettle. Not a glance spared for Sten or me. She then filled the mortar with the leaves and, with nary a word, crushed them lightly.

No comments made about the intensifying peppermint scent. Sten wore an expression of discomfort as she watched Springfield fill the teapot with crushed leaves and hot water. "Steep for seven minutes." She turned an hourglass and placed it in the tray, together with the pot and three china cups.

Springfield turned to other tasks without further comments. Nothing said about my earlier performance, no curious questions posed. Sten circled Springfield, retrieved a smaller ceramic pot, then hurriedly pitter-pattered to my side of the kitchen. She placed the container on the tray and smiled sweetly. "Can't forget the honey. To sweeten the tea."

She then looked at Springfield, who had gone to inspect a crate. "Miss Springfield, I'm helping to take the tea to the Command Room." Springfield gave no replies.

"I can carry the tray myself."

"I can't let you do that, Commander," replied Sten with a scowl. "You are limping!" She glanced at Springfield again, leaned forward and pleaded with a hushed, urgent tone, "Please, Commander."

Exhaled and nodded. Sten smiled appreciatively.

The moment we departed from the kitchen, Sten whispered, "I think Springfield's in a bad mood. I've never seen her like this before."

"When did this start?"

"I don't know, though she's been awfully quiet since the end of the battle."

"...What did she look like then?"

Sten lagged, having slowed her pace. Suddenly startled, she lengthened her stride to keep up. As we crossed the iron gate, she said, "Her skirt was covered in blood, and her eyes... there's something strange about the way she looked. I think...I think this was about Southern Checkpoint."

"...I see."

The turbine buffeted us as we approached the second iron gate, though our steps remained steady. An azure glow welcomed us as we crossed the threshold. On the opposite end of the tactical map, M4A1 waited.

Skorpion leaned forward from her chair. "Cetin! You are three minutes late!" she announced aloud.

"Evening, Skorpion." Sten sighed. She then beamed as she inquired, "Where do you want this, Commander?" Pointed at the desk just behind M4A1. She nodded, hurriedly completed her task, then bowed slightly. She tilted her head slightly to her right and smiled. "Enjoy the tea." She then hurried out of the Command Room.

Skorpion sniffed at the air as the tea was poured into china cups. "Oho…" Skorpion uttered. "Is that peppermint tea?"

"Sweetened? Unsweetened?"

"Sweet, please," replied Skorpion enthusiastically. One scoop of honey stirred into her cup. She received the cup and skipped back to her seat, without spilling a drop.

"You?" The question was posed to M4A1. She blinked and pointed at herself, her expression that of disbelief.

"Yes, you."

She gazed at the teapot, or rather, the steam rising from its mouth.

The radio crackled. Red blips continued to drift about aimlessly.

She replied hesitantly, "...Sweet?"

"Is that a question or an answer?"

"Ah, Sarge!" Skorpion waved. HK416 silently nodded at her. She folded her arms and leaned against the side of the iron gate. She then directed her stern gaze towards M4A1. "Question? Or answer?" she asked again, harshly.

M4A1 stammered, with a hint of a squeak, "Swe...sweet!"

"Cetin," Skorpion queried, "is the tea for three or four?"

Seven to ten leaves per person. Twenty-eight leaves minimum per person. Springfield had used thirty leaves.

"Three to four." Tray transferred to the edge of the tactical map. "HK416 can help herself to the tea."

"I'm fine," HK416 replied with a stiff nod.

"Oi, Cetin," Skorpion glared. "What did I say about names being too mouthful? Just call her 416, or Sarge!"

"Commander," M4A1 interjected. "I thought I'm here for a debrief?"

"Yes."

She glanced at the steaming teacup. "Maybe I shouldn't…"

"You will need the tea." Picked up the unsweetened cup, felt its weight pulling on the right shoulder. Steel chair dragged up. "Sit."

Skorpion had started drinking her tea. M4 hadn't. She stared at her cup, glanced at Skorpion, then at 416, then back at her cup.

Another burst of statics. A cluster of wandering red blips winked out. The blue blips responsible moved on to another waypoint. FAL did not report in.

416 continued to stare at M4. Her expression was impassive.

The peppermint aroma rose into my nostrils as the cooling liquid washed over parched tongue and throat.

M4, with some hesitation, decided to drink her tea.

This was the same M4 who had coldly executed a Ringleader, and the same one who eliminated Agent.

Teacup clinked against the tray.

"Skorpion."

The T-Doll coughed, spilling her beverage onto her yellow shirt and black shorts. "Bwah?" she cried. Her single eye was wide with surprise. "Recount to me the 'Battle for Safehouse 3'. Starting from how you came into contact with M4 and the events leading to the battle."

Skorpion scoffed, "Oh, now you want to know about my heroism." She set her cup onto its tray and cleared her throat. "Alright, so, this was a week ago. My team was camping out in the woods. Sturmgewehr was on sentry duty while Papasha and I were preparing our breakfast. Ingram did not join us. She was trying to start a fire instead. Normally that would be my job, but Ingram won't skin the squirrel we caught for our breakfast. So!" Skorpion slapped her chest. "Anyway, just as we were about to quarter the squirrel, we detected Grifon signals about two kilometres north-west from camp."

"This is your team, isn't it, M4?"

M4, teacup hanging in her grasp, blinked. She then looked at me and nodded. "...Yes. That was us."

"Is it around this time you assumed command over Skorpion's team?"

"She didn't," Skorpion said. "Wanted to break camp right then and there and go straight for them but Sturmgewehr said 'no'. She thought it might be a trap. Said we should wait for them to hail us. You know...because Grifon dolls can detect us if we can detect them."

"When did you join M4's team in Safehouse 3?"

"Two and a half hours later," Skorpion replied. "M4's team contacted us two hours after breakfast and assumed command."

"Why did you not command Skorpion's team sooner, M4?"

M4 blinked again. "It…" she started slowly, like an old engine warming up after years of abandonment, "...it was a covert mission. We had to keep our team small and...we weren't equipped to support another echelon…"

She lowered her eyes and pursed her lips.

"...You contacted Team Skorpion only when it was necessary for the defence of Safehouse 3."

M4 nodded again.

Skorpion continued, "As soon as we heard from M4, we immediately emptied our stockpiles and went to join her. Saw lots of wreckage around…"

"...Stockpiles?"

"We were stranded for a year." Skorpion sipped her tea. "We had a lot of time. Found ourselves a cave to hide in and spent that year repeatedly sneaking into the old command post to reclaim some supplies and..." She gulped down the remainder of her beverage. "Anyway!" she got up from her seat and strode to the teapot on the tactical map. "We snuck towards their coordinate..."

"That being Safehouse 3," 416 stated.

"Yup! Safehouse 3." Skorpion filled her cup. "Quite a big place, actually. Bigger than any warehouses I had seen. Almost looked like a factory, in fact." She then returned to her chair.

"Not all safehouses are warehouses," 416 noted.

Skorpion tilted her head. "I thought they all are?"

"...Maybe in movies…"

"Mmmm...Anyway!" Skorpion continued. "We avoided going to that place to look for supplies because it was always crawling with Sangvis. I think we even saw Scarecrow there a month ago."

M4 lowered her eyes, deep in thought.

"So, we got there using the old paths and found M4's teammates already cleaning up a wave." Skorpion drank her tea. "This is really good, by the way. Sten made this?"

"Springfield."

"Ahhh…" Skorpion uttered. "Thought it was Sten." She took another sip and set the cup on the tray. "They were really cool, you know. One member at each of the three entry points and each of them took down about three times their number. They don't even have dummies! You should have seen Ingram's face at the time."

"Only three?"

"I was...in the Safehouse," M4 said. "Supervising the data download and...coordinating the defence."

"Skorpion, were there any Sangvis bodies inside the Safehouse premise?"

"Now that you mentioned it…" Skorpion crossed her legs and rubbed her chin. "...All the bodies were around the perimeter. It didn't look like there's any fighting inside. Never saw even a single bullet casing."

"How was the enemy presence in subsector 4? Where were they concentrated at?"

Skorpion, still deep in thought, recalled, "Our cave was to the east of the old command post. The road there was patrolled by two Dragoon echelons. The road further west, right after the bridge and passing by the command post, was just loaded with Sangvis. We never use that road. Safehouse 3 was further north from our cave. We can get there as long as we follow the forest and the cliff. No patrols there."

"No enemy presence in the command post?"

"Nope!" Skorpion shook her head. "Sangvis left the place mostly untouched after they cleared the place out. Even left the bodies right where they…" she fell silent for a moment. "They only occupied the hill to the west of the road and Safehouse 3."

She perked up, "Ah, I remember! All patrols in the area moved north the night before M4 contacted us."

"...We encountered minimal resistance on the way to Safehouse 3…" M4 noted. "Does that mean…?"

"They knew you were coming," 416 replied coolly. "They pulled back to set up a trap."

M4 pursed her lips and fell silent.

"Where and when did you first encounter resistance?"

M4 snapped from her pensiveness. "We fought a patrol in at a mountain pass just north of here...two weeks ago?"

"How many times did you engage the enemy?"

"I think...twenty times and...we took a communications outpost along the way?"

"Is that a question or an answer?" 416 goaded.

M4 knitted her brow. 416 smirked upon hearing her more resolute reply. "Answer."

"The Sangvis had dedicated much effort and manpower to this...trap of theirs." The tea had gotten cold. "They had even dedicated a sizeable garrison there in the months prior. Why is this so? What are the Sangvis looking for in Safehouse 3, which they couldn't acquire until your arrival?"

M4 knitted her brow again. Her teacup was untouched since the first sip. "I'm not sure if I should...it is confidential…" she replied hesitantly.

A sigh. Cold china upon my lips. Peppermint-scented liquid washed down my throat. "The sugar cubes. Based on the upload time on both, I can conclude each contains tremendous amounts of data…"

"I had split the data into two cubes to secure them from the Sangvis…" M4 stated. "They are just half capacity when I hid them. They are split in such a way if the Sangvis managed to find one of them, the data they recover is scrambled and unusable."

"You had taken great lengths to keep this data away from the Sangvis." The lungs strained, the throat rumbled. "What is this data?"

"I...I don't know!" M4 insisted. "I only know it is very important to Miss Persica, and I was given instructions to secure it at all cost…"

Persica…

Her drone on the desk, lying inert in prism form.

"I see…"

"Hey, Sarge!" Skorpion said suddenly. 416 glanced at her but gave no replies. "This debrief has gone on for a while. Are you sure you don't want the tea?"

"The tea has gotten cold," 416 replied, with nary a glance at her.

"Your loss." Skorpion got up from her seat. She went and helped herself to another cup of tea.

"The Sangvis were unable to recover this data before your team came along. Why is this?"

"The...the Sangvis hardware is incompatible with the database interface." M4 paused, then continued. "I think...it was from the pre-war era. There were no compatible ports and…the only way to we can access it is with...a password typed in with a keyboard..."

"What is this password?"

M4 fidgeted. She replied hesitantly, "I'm not sure if I should…I mean Miss Persica didn't provide the password until after we reported in at Safehouse 3 and…"

"Then how did you download anything into the sugar cubes?"

She turned her attention to Skorpion. Skorpion looked confused. She continued her query, "I mean, there are no compatible ports, right?" M4 lowered her eyes. After a moment of rumination, she replied, "...an adapter. Miss Persica provided to us an adapter."

"Did you scrub the database?"

M4 blinked again.

"Did you scrub the database?" 416 repeated harshly.

M4 lowered her eyes. "N-No. I don't think I did. Agent broke in after I…"

"Agent." My gaze met Skorpion's. She tilted her head. "Want tea?" she asked. "I'm good." Returned to M4. "Skorpion described Agent's attack being like a battering ram…"

A loud china clatter, accompanied by splashing liquid. "I didn't say that!" Skorpion protested. "I said she just walked right through us!"

"Like a battering ram. How did you defeat her?"

"I…" M4 averted her gaze. She brought her fingers to her neck. "I didn't. It was M16. She caught Agent with a surprise attack."

"Ah! Sarge twitched!" Skorpion cried suddenly. 416's expression had darkened.

"Do you know this M16, 416?"

"Yes," 416 intoned frigidly. "But that isn't relevant to the discussion. Carry on."

"Are you and M16 enemies?" Skorpion inquired. She was folding her arms; her head cocked to the opposite side. "There's bad blood between us," 416 intoned frigidly. "Drop it."

M4 narrowed her eyes at 416. "I don't think M16 mentioned this before."

416 turned her cold gaze towards M4. "Did you even ask her about me?"

"...No. I didn't know about you, so…"

"Hey, Sarge!" Skorpion said aloud. She was frowning. "What did M16 do to you?"

"I said, drop it!" 416 snapped in reply. "None of your business!"

"Wow," Skorpion responded dully. "You're even angrier than usual, Sarge."

"Skorpion." Rumbling in the throat. She perked up. The azure hue on her face took on a darker shade. She blinked. Tapped the teapot. "Help refill this teapot. Please."

Skorpion blinked again, then pouted as she got up from her seat. "...Yeees," she whined as she moseyed towards the tactical map. She snatched the teapot, made for the exit, then stopped. She looked at 416, then M4 and myself, before huffily ascended the steps.

Her fading footsteps drowned by further interrogations. "After you have completed the data download, you escaped Safehouse 3. You left Skorpion's team to cover the rear. When it was clear this measure wasn't sufficient, you left your team behind…"

"I didn't mean to leave anyone behind…" M4 muttered. "I wanted to bring everyone along but…"

A scorching in my veins. "The fact of the matter is you did desert them to save yourselves and your teammates. When that proved insufficient…"

"I didn't mean to leave anyone behind!" M4 insisted. "If I could take them along..."

Fists clenched. Voice coursed like arid breeze, "Then why didn't you?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Because...because…" Her voice softened. She glanced about, searchingly. First, at the iron gate, then at 416 leaning on the wall beside it. "...because…"

"An overwhelming force pursued you," 416 started. "M16 suggested leaving behind Team Skorpion to bring up the rear, buying your team precious minutes to escape. When they fell…"

"M16 had nothing to do with it!" M4 shouted angrily in reply. "I gave that order!"

"You?" 416 smirked. "Really?"

"Yes, Miss 416! I gave that order!" M4 insisted. "I am the one with the command module!"

"I know that," 416 replied coldly. "Skorpion told us as much. I'm more surprised M16 had nothing to do with that decision of yours." A sneer slithered on her lips, "Such a calculated sacrifice...I expected nothing less from her."

"She's not a monster!"

"She's a soldier!" 416, arms unfolded and fists clenched, shouted. "Like a good soldier, she prioritises her orders! She's the sort who sacrifices her comrades and herself if that's what it takes to ensure the success of the mission!"

Another burst of static. Another cluster of red blips had perished without our notice. M4's face was red as the setting sun, her lips trembling.

"Advising getting Team Skorpion to bring up the rear," 416 frigidly continued, "Staying behind to act as a diversion, I expected as much from M16. She is a soldier. Always a fine soldier. You…" she stabbed her finger at M4. "You aren't even half the soldier she is!"

Pounding in the veins.

"M16 is wasted on you!"

The throat rumbled. Lungs felt dry, straining in the ribs. "Enough!"

416, mouth ajar, blinked and stared wide-eyed. "...Commander?"

"That is enough. Leave."

She lowered her arm, glared at M4, then turned to leave. As her footsteps faded, M4 stammered, "I...They insisted on staying behind. They said I have to escape to complete my mission. They…"

A sigh. The pulse slowed, breathing evened. "When did you last hear from your teammates?"

"Last I heard of them…"

M4 paused. She inhaled, then exhaled slowly, "Gunshots." Another pause. "Gunshots. Last I heard of them. Gunshots. Back in subsector 4...three hundred metres from Safehouse 3..."

"...I see."

"What happened?"

Skorpion at the gate, clutching a teapot tightly, brow knitted. "I saw Sarge stomping out a while ago…" She stopped, looked at M4, then at myself. "Are you bullying her?" she asked critically.

"No…" M4 answered. She sniffled, choked, then repeated, "No…" She looked up and smiled. Beads of tears had formed by her reddening eyes. "I'm fine." Her voice softened, "I'm glad you've escaped."

Skorpion narrowed her single eye sceptically, though she said nothing as she filled M4's cup. Another glare. "You really didn't bully her, did you?"

"...I didn't."

Skorpion, still sceptical, cocked her head slightly. She then turned to M4. "He didn't bully you, did he?"

M4 shook her head. "N-No…" she stammered. Smiling weakly, she continued, "I'm just thinking about my comrades." Looking into her freshly-filled cup, she added, "...I...I promised I would return to rescue them, but... it's been a week..."

"...Tell me about your comrades."

A forlorn smile. "We are Team AR," she started. "Team Anti-Rain. We are built to be sisters. M16A1, M4 Sopmod II, ST AR-15...I'm the youngest sister." Looking at the tea again. "M16...she's the first to enter service...long before the rest of us were booted up from our pods. She's the most experienced among us, our reliable eldest sister though…" A sigh. Her smile turned bitter. "It's funny...how I'm the team leader and not her."

"What about Sop II?" Skorpion inquired suddenly. "I thought she's the youngest."

M4 snorted. "She does look like it, doesn't she…" She giggled. "No...she's not." She turned her eyes away from the cup and towards the tactical map. Another cluster of red blips had winked out. "Second youngest. She's just the least mature among us, that's all."

"She's the smallest," Skorpion noted, "but also the strongest. She actually tore off a Ripper's limb with her bare hands. There's also that time she shot the Dragoon's leg right off and dropkicked the rider!"

M4 frowned. "She didn't try to ride the Dragoon, did she?"

Skorpion drank her tea and shook her head, "No...she just kicked the Dragoon towards the advancing Sangvis, ten metres away, and blew it up with a grenade." Noting my look of disbelief, she swiftly added, "No, really! She did! She's really strong. I think she can actually beat Executioner in a fist-fight!"

"Oh…" M4 exhaled. "...Good. I thought I would have to lecture her..."

"What about AR-15?" Skorpion tilted her head towards her other shoulder. "Sop II said something about wanting AR-15 to see what she did.."

"She's the second oldest sister," M4 replied. "...I don't know her too well. We don't talk to each other much. I don't think she likes me…" Her voice dropped into a murmur. "... She's a little scary…" a bitter smile formed upon her lips, "...but Sop II still prefers her company over mine. Some team leader I am…"

"Ah, don't worry about that," Skorpion waved her hand, with a batting motion. Another sip of her tea. She continued, "It happens. I mean…" she then regarded me. "Ingram and SVD don't like Cetin much, but they still listen to him."

M4 frowned. "Dolls are obligated to listen to our Commanders…Still...Ingram..." she knitted her brow. "...I remember her. Didn't she solicit a fist-bump from your Commander?"

"Buu buu…" replied Skorpion, imitating a vehicle's horn. Smiling smugly, she added, "She's just jealous Cetin praised me and gave me a fist-bump."

"...Huh..." M4 uttered. Another bitter smile. "...Sop II only ever asked AR-15 to praise her…"

"Are you able to continue with the debrief?"

M4 blinked, then nodded. "Y-yes…"

A sip on the tea. The cup was quarter-empty, the liquid cold. Still enough to comfort the ravaged throat. Its bottom clinked against its tray.

"After you escaped from the ambush, you made your way here, to subsector 2. To get to subsector 1 or 2, you have to cross subsector 3. A redevelopment zone. Urban."

Picked up the teapot. The false arm steady despite the rushing fluids. Not a single drop wasted.

"Plenty of places to hide in, plenty of ways to navigate unnoticed. Why spurn subsector 3?"

"Subsector 3 redevelopment zone... isn't safe, Commander," M4 answered. "It's called City 3…'Novum Sambir'. Sangvis redevelopment project from before Butterfly Incident. There were Sangvis troops stationed at what looked like checkpoints. I…" She paused, pursed her lips, then continued, "...we agreed it is Sangvis home ground…"

"Why subsector 2?"

M4 looked to the tactical map again. Blue blips moved towards Hevhj. "We had pre-arranged safehouses and rendezvous points in subsector 2...from back when we held our training exercises here. I think maybe... there's a chance I might meet my comrades in any one of them."

"How many?"

M4 looked at her tea. Its steam was starting to dissipate. "...Six. We have six."

"The cabin north of here, the mining village and?"

"The manor in T06, a fisherman's lodge along the river south of T06...T04…, a farmhouse west of T06, another cabin in the mountain pass." She fell silent for another moment. With some hesitation, she continued, "I can provide coordinates if you want."

"...I see."

Another sip on the tea. Its flavour gradually soaked the tongue.

"Two days ago, you left the forest cabin. You should have seen activity in Hevhj…"

An amused snicker. "Bless you," said Skorpion cheekily.

"Hevhj?" M4 asked, puzzled.

A grunt. "This base camp. You should have seen our helos and encountered our listening posts. You met FNC and FN49. Instead of going to them, you fled to the village to the south-east of here. You fled again through the forest at the bottom of the cliff surrounding the manor in this village. Why?"

"I…" M4 pursed her lips again. "I thought...I will endanger your company if I go with you."

"We are already endangered by being here."

"No...I mean…" M4 fidgetted. "I think if I go with you, the Sangvis will just wipe you out to get to me so…"

"Oi oi…" Skorpion uttered. "You think we are too weak to help?"

M4 took a deep breath and nodded.

"We are strong, M4!" Skorpion proclaimed. She looked offended. "We defeated Executioner!"

"I don't mean...I wasn't sure...I mean…" M4 hesitated again. "The Sangvis were everywhere here, and you have so few dolls your sentries are humans. Moreover, your patrol group consists of early model T-Dolls…"

"...you think they wouldn't endure under a Ringleader's onslaught."

She fell silent. The cup was one-quarter empty. "You could have cut our losses if you had sought refuge with us. We have helos. We could evacuate you."

"But...Commander...you…" she pursed her lips again. "You...you could lose people…"

"We already did." A heavy sigh. Another sip on the tea. "Death is always at our heels in this business."

"Yea…" Skorpion looked at her thighs and rubbed her knees together. "Yea...we did lose people...but!" She straightened herself, her eyes lit up, "We still defeated Executioner, right?"

M4 smiled nervously. "...Right."

"How did Executioner find you?"

"I think she…" M4 inhaled. "It was from Miss Persica. She called, told me to stay put and wait for pick up. I think...I think Executioner detected the signal and traced it to my location."

"...I see…"

The cup was half-empty.

"No further questions."

"Commander…" she spoke up. "If I may...I know it's not my place to ask, but…" A hint of rising desperation. "My comrades are still in Sangvis territory, so please…" Another moment of hesitation. "...save them."

"Do you know where they are? How to find them?"

M4 lowered her eyes. "N-No…"

"Then, I cannot promise I can save them."

"...Oh…" Forlornness in her voice.

A sigh. "However, I will follow up on any lead of their whereabouts. This, I can promise."

"Ah," said Skorpion. "He promised." Noting M4's confused expression, Skorpion grinned. "If he makes a promise, he's going to keep it."

M4's expression lit up. With a hesitant show of hopefulness, she uttered, "T-thank you, Commander."


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**1812**

"Command to Team FAL, no more hostiles on the screen. Return to base."

"Team FAL to Command. Understood." The blue blips started moving south-westwards from the edge of Hevhj environs. "We are on our way."

Crumbling rubble from beyond the walls. A pause from the radio.

"Commander, are you at Southern Checkpoint A?"

Another pause.

"Right. Tell Madame Springfield to prepare us something sumptuous for dinner. I want a cup of soufflé."

"Oh! Oh! I want what FAL's having!"

FAL sighed. "FAL to BAR." A pregnant pause. "Shut up!" She chided sharply. She then took a deep breath and exhaled, "Team FAL to Command. Out." The radio fell silent.

Steel shrieked outside. Stale air expelled. Slid the command tablet into the pouch. The stitching ached as the true leg limped out into the light.

A pink comet streaked past the door. "Papasha!" Sudaev cried. She was holding a metal tray. "Papasha!" She stopped behind her sister, aboard her Power Loader.

Papasha twisted a lever, and the machine shuffled right. She lowered it, and the machine crouched down.

"I've brought chay!" Sudaev cried again, louder, trying to be heard despite the hydraulic hisses and actuator creaks.

The car's frame shrieked under the crushing grip of mechanical pincers.

"Papasha!" Sudaev circled to the left side of the Loader. "Sestra!" A dull clang. She had kicked the machine's leg. Papasha jumped, the wreckage crashed onto the cobbled street. Sudaev thrust the tray upwards. "Sestra!" she cried insistently. "Chay!"

False eyes turned towards cobbles. Oleksiy fell somewhere in the vicinity. Could not pinpoint the exact spot. There was...

"No blood?" Lev sipped on his flask. "If you are looking for blood, there isn't any to be found."

Another sip.

"Sangvis energy weapons. Cauterise wounds. Not any more merciful than bullets, however, considering..." He exhaled, wrinkled his nose, then emptied his flask with a single gulp. After corking his bottle, he gestured towards the church tower. "Come on," he said. "It's almost dinner time."

"Later."

Sun...still so high up the sky, quite some distance away from the mountain-peaks.

"...Later."

Lev scratched his chin. "I suppose I have time."

Hissing hydraulics. Papasha, having finished her tea, had resumed her task. Sudaev, riding the machine with the teacup and the tray in hand, swung her legs.

**1907**

"I've heard about Stefan and Oleksiy," said Grigori, after consuming a spoonful of soufflé. "Awww, Griga," grinned Dimas cheekily, while digging into his own cup of the dish. "Is this the part where you call Oleksiy a 'good man'?"

Grigori frowned. He opened his mouth, and Nagant slapped Dimas at the back of his head. "Cheeky Dimas!" she reprimanded, "you are rude to the deceased!"

Lev snorted. The soufflé crumbled between the teeth. The flakes and the baked flour tasted strongly of eggs with a hint of carrot.

Grigori sighed. "No, he's an incessant grumbler, but that's beside the point."

A sip on the tea. Tasted of cinnamon. Skorpion made a mess, crumbs all around her mouth. She looked up, blinked, tilted her head slightly to her right before Sturmgewehr twisted her face towards herself and scrubbed her mouth.

"Does he have family?"

"A father," Lev replied as he stabbed his fork into his meal. "Never talks about him, however."

"They are estranged," Grigori clarified. "Anton Antonovych. Old history professor. You probably saw his books. Never wanted Oleksiy to join the military, as I understand."

"You know the man?" Lev asked.

Grigori swallowed his bite. "No. Not really." He drank his tea. "I only read his book, and heard Oleksiy's grumblings about him, is all."

Another mouthful crumbled between the teeth. Flakes scraped the tongue, tea washed them down the throat.

"Perchance you know his address?"

"Don't bother visiting." Grigori chewed on and swallowed down another mouthful. "Anton disowned him for joining the military. Didn't change his stance when he wound up in Grifon instead. Doubt he's happy seeing any of us turn up to deliver the news. Besides…" He pointed at the Grifon patch on my shoulder. "Old Kryuger would have sent a condolence letter anyway."

He sighed. "I'm more worried about Stefan." He then glanced towards the serving counter. Sten's smile masked her frustration. FNC had returned to pester her. Springfield at the back, bathed in the oven's glow. "And Springfield."

"Stefan will live," Lev assured before drinking his tea. "Whether he comes back is another story." He looked towards M14's table. She was very quiet, despite being jostled about by a merrymaking SVD. "I'm more worried about M14. She's grown attached to him over the past week."

FAL, frowning, stood up and strutted towards the snipers. A few words, SVD lifted her arms away from M14's shoulder and sulked.

"As for Springfield..." Lev looked towards the serving counter. Springfield hunched forward while placing her tray of baked goods onto the serving counter. Sten jumped, FNC scampered away. She was wearing a frozen smile. "Give her time."

"...How long has she been in Grifon?"

Lev rubbed his chin. "She was here before I joined up."

"...I see…"

"She's from the first batch of second gens assigned to Grifon." Grigori stabbed his fork into his cup. "Back then, Grifon had more troopers like us performing frontline duty." He lifted the baked chunk towards his eyes to inspect it. "Any T-Doll on active duty worked in mixed squads. You can imagine." He closed his teeth around the fork.

"As I said, give her time." Lev drank his tea. "She will be back to her usual self, soon enough. More importantly…" dark brown eyes, transfixed towards my position, "...how are you holding up?"

Grigori glanced back and forth towards Lev, then myself. Dimas watched silently, though he was tensed like a curious yet cautious cat. Nagant's reproachful glares, directed at him, had no effect. Skorpion slurped on her tea loudly, though her single eye was fixed onto us.

"I'm fine."

Eggs, carrot, crumbled crust, washed down by the cinnamon flood.

Lev narrowed his eyes. "Don't give me that, Fox. Tell us."

"Did I miss something here?" Grigori asked.

Lev drank his tea, then remarked, "Look at his face. Did you see anything out of the ordinary there?"

"When you pointed it out, he looks…" Grigori leaned forward, rubbing his chin. He regarded me with studious eyes. "...I think he looks a little pale."

"He's been like this since he saw Oleksiy's body." Lev stabbed his fork into his cup again. "I even found him skulking around Southern Checkpoint A, where Oleksiy fell, staring at the ground."

"Give me time." Inhaled, exhaled, drank tea.

**2300**

A swollen pain throbbed in the true thigh. Back tingled by the eerie blue.

Muscles strained to straighten the spine. A muffled clink. The false palm had tapped against a filled jug, nestled between the shot glass and the Smirnoff bottle. Nictated the false eyes; fluids had welled under the true eyelid. Pressure unevenly distributed onto the table; a tablet pressed under the false hand.

Compacted flour scraped against the rough tongue, its passage carried by the chilly flood.

Swollen pain continued to throb. The true leg refused to budge.

Head rolled back, eyes towards the blank ceiling. Looked to the right. Cables ran along the bottom of the dirt wall, behind Skorpion's chair, towards the rusted iron gate.

The skull rocked forward, the spine groaned. Blank screen to my left, paper below my chin, displaying my Cyrillic scrawls. Plastic pen laid at the bottom right.

Sweat upon the brow, the forehead felt feverish. Twitching and trembling in the false hand.

The laptop lit up. Linen sheets, striped by the broken sun.

"_Don't be too hard on yourself. Accidents happen. Mistakes happen. You can't plan for everything." _

_Demir...Kadir...Timur...Zoltan…_

_Dust flecks rose from their bloodied sheets, rose into the broken light, like souls sundered from their mortal shells._

_Living brothers, died on behest of a corpse. _

Oleksiy's address refracted by the near-empty bottle, its distorted words melding with the red logo.

Picked up the paper, read it twice, folded it and tucked it under the laptop.

The throbbing subsided. The chair creaked. Aching in the stitchings as I passed Skorpion's chair, towards the iron gate, up the steps. Blue light caressed my false cheek.

Three T-Dolls and a guardsman gathered around a chessboard. FMG-9 shot up from her seat and saluted. Blunt end of her pen pressed against her forehead. "Boss," she greeted. Skorpion turned around and waved vigorously. Ingram nodded and resumed scraping her knife against a sharpening stone. Bohdan raised his eyes. "Commander," he grunted. He then returned to his study of the chessboard.

"You really should go back to sleep," advised Skorpion, insistently.

"I am well-rested."

The loud clack on the board caught her attention. She froze up upon assessing the situation on the board. FMG-9 snickered and scribbled into her notebook.

"Carry on."

"Aye, Boss." FMG-9 gave an informal salute. She resumed spectating the match.

Tiss hurried past, either to witness the battle of wits or to disturb FMG-9. BAR yawned and rested her forehead on her folded arms. FAL snapped her novel shut. "Come on," she said as she got up and circled around the bench. "This isn't the right place to sleep."

BAR whined as she was forcefully marched towards the exit.

"Ah, Commander." Sten put down her folded-up apron and glided towards the counter. She beamed, "It's already past last order, but I can make you an exception. Anything you want?" She gestured at the shrink-wrapped aluminium tray to her left.

Behind her, Springfield scrubbed a lunch tray. Her eyes were unfocused, lost in thought.

Sten, standing behind the serving tray, waited expectantly.

"A brownie."

She blinked. Her smile trembled with uncertainty. "Brownie, Sir?"

A slow nod.

The plates clattered. Sten had almost tripped and scattered them all over. She righted herself, picked up one of the skewed dishes, then tore the plastic wrappings and retrieved the desired pastry. A bang. Sten, startled, spun around. Springfield had placed a large steel pot onto the table and was about to scrub it. Timidly, she inched towards the serving counter and thrust the plate forward.

"Here's your brownie, Sir."

Another slow nod. The plate held firmly in my hands. Within it, a square pastry, coloured in deep brown.

Sten glanced at Springfield nervously before straightening the pillar of plastic plates.

"She hasn't improved, has she?"

Sten leaned forward and, with one palm against her mouth, replied, "No, Commander, she's still the same." She glanced back again. Springfield had tilted the pot towards her. Her smile was hidden, her motion forceful, effortful. "She's putting too much effort and focus into this. This isn't normal," Sten continued concernedly. "She's barely paying any attention to anything outside of kitchen-work. It's like she's trying to lose herself."

A sigh escaped my throat.

"Sten."

She waited, expectantly.

"Do you have any pending tasks?"

She blinked again. "Oh, no," she shook her head. "I was about to turn in for the night."

"I see. Carry on with that plan."

Sten tilted her head slightly, indicating her befuddlement. She caught herself and nodded frantically. "Aye, Sir," she said with a stiff smile.

**2330**

The charge of the Black Knights marked the end of the conflict between Skorpion and Bohdan. Skorpion hung her head back and groaned aloud. Upon hearing a hint of a giggle, she turned to glare at FMG-9 and Tiss.

FMG-9 shook her head and scribbled into her notebook. Tiss looked on with a cheeky grin. Skorpion slowly looked down, her face flushed. She then turned towards me and demanded, with puffed cheeks, "Cetin! Show Bohdan what's what!"

Bohdan perked up, eyes glittering with interest. "Always wanted a match with an officer." He picked up a discarded black pawn and clacked it against the board. "What say you, Sir? A round?"

The head shook. "I do not know chess."

Bohdan arched his brows. "Really? Isn't chess _the _officer's pastime?"

"That's a cliche."

Bohdan levelled his brow. "...Huh."

"Ehhh," Ingram groaned. "How boring." She sounded disappointed.

"Why are you disappointed? You didn't understand anything throughout the match," said FMG-9 as she snapped her notebook shut. "Hey, hey, FMG-9," Ingram scoffed. "I can tell when someone's winning."

FMG-9 sighed. "So can a football newbie spectating the World Cup, and she won't enjoy it. Well," she got up from her bench and gave a salute, "I'm returning to the barracks. Have a good night, Boss."

"See you tomorrow, Kommandir." Tiss saluted before hurrying after FMG-9. FMG-9, upon detecting Tiss closing the distance, lengthened her strides.

With two broad strokes, Bohdan swept his pieces into the underside of his chessboard. They mingled in the enclosure, heedless of allegiance or hierarchy. The Black Knight lay beside the White Pawn, the White Queen lay beside the Black King, all buried together as the board snapped shut.

Bohdan nodded respectfully before returning to his post. Ingram, having done sharpening her knife, departed next. Only three remained in the Mess Hall; Skorpion, still on the bench in front of me, Springfield, at the table closest to the serving counter, staring at nothing in particular with a cup of steaming tea at hand, and myself.

"Are you going to talk to Springfield?" Skorpion asked suddenly. Noting my silence, she frowned, knitted her brow and continued, with a chiding tone, "Are you going to scold her about Oleksiy?"

"No."

Her expression softened.

"I'll only converse with her."

A cheek raised, china-blue eye narrowed. "I'm joining you."

Upon hearing our closing footsteps, Springfield removed her palm from her left cheek and greeted us with a warm, gentle smile.

"Are you thinking about Oleksiy?"

Her smile wavered, like sun-rays choked by coalescing storm-clouds.

"Yes," she said, her voice tinged with weary melancholy. She breathed a sigh, recomposed herself, then offered us tea. Its peppermint scent rose to fill the nostrils, though its flavour had yet to wet the tongue. Skorpion, brim to her mouth, glanced at the both of us then produced a loud slurp.

Springfield had returned to staring at an empty spot on the weathered wall.

"I've heard."

No response.

"About what happened."

Her tea had cooled.

Skorpion's teacup clinked against its saucer. She got up to retrieve the pot sitting on the middle of the table.

Springfield removed her palm from her cheek and grasped her elbow. "I'm sorry about what I did," she said. She wasn't smiling. "I know...what I did wasn't helpful."

The teaware clinked again. Skorpion looked at the both of us warily as she lowered herself onto the bench.

"I should have stayed on the roof, covered for Stefan while he retrieves Oleksiy. Instead, I…"

"This isn't like you."

She sighed. "I know."

She drank her tea. A frown formed on her lips as she set the ceramic container onto its saucer.

"This isn't the first time, is it?"

Skorpion had gotten up and refilled Springfield's cup.

"Losing a comrade?"

"No." She inhaled deeply, unaffected by the fresh peppermint scent. "No, it's not."

"...I see."

Skorpion sat down and stared at her teacup.

"It's been almost a decade, hasn't it? You being with Grifon?"

Springfield returned her gaze back towards the empty spot on the wall. Skorpion shifted her attention back at the elder T-Doll. With another weary sigh, Springfield replied, "I hadn't been on the field for three years."

Her fingers clawed at her teacup, turning it around. "It wears you down, you know." A smile reformed on her lips, a smile without warmth. One of gentle melancholy, like a drizzle over the sun-soaked plains. "Orders barked through the Zenner, the ringing in the right ear…"

She lowered her gaze into her teacup.

"The last cries of absent friends."

She raised her head, her jade green eyes met Skorpion's. The younger T-Doll cocked her head, signalling her confusion.

"..._Human_ friends."

Skorpion's eye widened. The peppermint scent faded.

"...I understand."

The rueful smile deepened. "I will be fine. I just need a night. You, however…"

"...Give me time."

She closed her eyes and nodded slightly.

"As long as we are here, this isn't going to end."

The lukewarm tea doused the throat in weak peppermint flavour.

"For you, it will be harder."

She was looking at Skorpion. Skorpion, her brow knitted and her lips pursed, stared at her teacup.

"I know."

Springfield sighed again. "When the time comes…" Her eyes hardened as they bore into me. "...I hope you have the strength to give the order."

**+1 Day 0020**

Altair, Deneb and Vega twinkled on the heavens above, unburdened by the tribulations on the earth below. The cold, dry wind carried with it the stench of battle, recently passed. Melted plastic, burned metal, ignited gunpowder. Footsteps trampled the dust-coated cobbles, one set lively, the other weary.

The lively one drew close, its rhythm punctuated by a bump into the true arm.

Turned around, looked into her single eye. It twinkled with starry light.

The breeze picked up, the dry leaves rustled.

"Cetin." Skorpion knitted her brow. "I have been thinking about what Springfield said and…" Her voice lowered, her tone cautious, "Do you have absent friends too?"

The odour of dusty ashes filled the nostrils, invaded the lungs.

_Suleiman, Demir, Hasan…_

_Captain._

"Yes, I do."

"You are wearing that look again," Skorpion said. "It's that same look Springfield had, and the same one you had in the medical bay."

"...What look?"

She lowered her eye. "It's a sad look...no...it's sadder than sad…but Cetin," she raised her eyes again, "I have lost friends too. I cried, I felt sad too, especially when I thought of Sturmgewehr while she was gone and...of my former commander but...it didn't feel like yours or Springfield's."

The knees bent, the stitching throbbed, the lungs filled with bitter ashes.

"Skorpion…" Fingers both false and true grasped her little shoulders.

"Sometimes, things happen, things so terrible they leave a mark. Burn into memories, scar the soul. Wounds so deep and grievous they will never heal. Such wounds, they will hurt without warning. Even the lightest brush may bring such searing pain, like flesh freshly flensed, despite the years."

Her eye widened.

"Are...are these the phantoms?"

The neck creaked, the head bobbed. She lowered her eye, her cheek slightly puffed. "So...the pain haunts you like a ghost?" She raised her head and said, softly, "But I..I thought that time heals all wounds."

"Not always."

"I don't understand…"

A strain on the true cheek. Burning in the false eyes. The nostrils burned, the lungs emptied of acrid dust.

"I pray you never do."

The strain eased, hands off her shoulder, straightened the knees.

"It's getting late. You should return to the barracks."

Skorpion cocked her head slightly to the right and blinked. "No, I'm not going back."

"Isn't Sturmgewehr waiting for you?"

"She's asleep, Cetin," Skorpion cracked a mischievous grin. "She sleeps at ten pm. I waited for her to turn in, then got up from bed again."

True palm planted on the forehead. The neck twisted, left to right.

"I can handle another late-night shift just fine!" she declared with undeserved pride.

"No. No, you can't."

The palm lowered.

"You were barely able to keep your back straight three days ago. You had to be carried back from the Northern Cliffside."

"It's not too much trouble, is it?" Skorpion inquired insistently, with a light skip.

"You weigh thirty kilograms more than you look."

The torso flinched, the false toes dug into the dirt. Her kick's impact reverberated up to the hips. Skorpion glared angrily, with a puffed cheek.

"I'm not heavy!" she cried, then stomped away towards the rows of reoccupied houses.

_We took casualties yesterday._

_One dead, one wounded._

_Oleksiy and Stefan. _

_Springfield and M14 were most affected by their loss._

_Springfield held herself responsible for Oleksiy's death. Spent the entire evening ruminating about it. What she should have done..._

_Reminiscing on her past failures. _

_..._

_M14...she worries for Stefan. Fears he might not return again. I told her to embolden his spirit. Maybe that would aid in his recovery, I cannot say._

…

_T-Dolls with heart. _

_..._

_Quite unlike the cold machines which had cut us down so mercilessly._

…

_416 and Ingram brought us victory. Brought Executioner low and recovered M4. 416 promised and delivered. Ingram's confidence was vindicated. _

…

_Didn't feel like a victory. _

…

_|Drinks|_

_The victory was soured the moment I saw Hassan. _

_You remember Hassan._

…

_Maybe you don't. You were different then. _

…

_|Drinks|_

_When Skorpion's dummy fell, it was his ruptured countenance I saw. Flashed with the Jaeger's discharge, like lightning from a cloudless sky. _

_..._

_Demir, Kadir, Timur, Zoltan...I saw them too. _

…

_|Drinks|_

_I have penned a letter to Oleksiy's father and will have it delivered in the next supply delivery. Griga advised against it but… it is my responsibility._

_Once we return to the FOB, I will look into organising his funerary wake, assuming neither Grigori nor Lev has made any plans for it. _

…

_|Drinks|_


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_This is to be our last day in Hevhj. _

_Papasha has started tearing down the Southern Checkpoint B barricade. _

_We will depart for Subsector 1 in 1100._

…

_It has been four days, hasn't it, Captain? Felt like an eternity._

…

…

_This is peculiar. I do not feel keen on returning to my original posting. To trade the historic dustiness of the catacomb for the sterility of the Nerve Center. _

_There are memories in this place._

_Lunchtime at Checkpoint A, the nightly walks to Northern Cliffside, Springfield's gentle counsel and unyielding will, Skorpion's earnest enthusiasm, Ingram's reckless cocksureness, Nagant's posed grand-motherliness, P7's and Tiss' crafty mischief, FMG-9's exasperation, FAL's arrogant provocation and 416's stoic dignity, SVD's thoughtless troublemaking, M14's triumphs and tribulations, the Mess Hall meetings, Lev's and Grigori's fellowship, Dimas' boyish irreverence, M4..._

…

_Executioner. And Oleksiy's demise…_

_..._

_Much has happened here in the past four days._

_Skorpion's tutorship on the fist bump. IDW's courage, tested by Vespid fire. 416's strong leadership and her wrangling of her problematic teammates. _

_M14's undeserved remorse over the hurt she had unwittingly inflicted and SVD's exploitation over the fact._

_Memories of that accursed night...those baleful Yellow Eyes…_

_Springfield and Skorpion dragging me back into the light. _

…

_I will miss the 0400 chirps, the feel of the cobbles under my feet, the sunlight filtering through the roof, the summer constellations hanging over the clear night sky…_

_I will miss Hevhj. _

…

_The peppermint scent is too diluted. _

…

_I had added the exact amount of crushed leaves as Springfield instructed. _

…

_Perhaps I didn't crush the leaves enough?_

…

_..._

**0513**

Papasha hummed a merry folk tune as she pulled a lever. The engine thrummed, the Power Loader crouched and planted its dozer blade onto the cobbles.

"Sestra!" shouted Sudaev further down the road. She waved her arms front and back like an airbase flight director as portrayed in old war movies.

Papasha cranked her levers forward. Ten seconds, twenty, the machine's power reached its greatest extent. It gradually grew a hill of shovelled debris and doll carcasses.

Deele shambled pass them towards us from the opposite lane. He was leaning far forward, his knees visibly buckling, his back burdened by a Jaeger's carcass.

He nearly fell forward the moment he came to a stop. He inhaled deeply and greeted, "Hey...Pierre. Commander." Another deep breath. "Fancy seeing you up so early in the morning."

Torrential sweat dripped down his bangs and rolled down his forehead.

"Sudaev shook me up," Pierre shrugged, then drank his coffee. "Wanted me to change out the loader's pincers with a dozer blade." He pointed at me with his pinky. "This one doesn't sleep."

Deele's smile was mask-like. He maintained his silence.

Pierre slurped up his drink, then pointed at the Jaeger and commented, teasingly, "Nice girl. Met her last night?"

"Nah," Deele shook his head. "We met half-an-hour ago." A moment's pause. He craned his neck over our shoulders, towards the Town Square, and shouted, "Hey, 416!"

The aforementioned T-Doll, arms folded and lips frowning, gazed upon us with narrowed eyes.

"Lend a hand?"

416 remained still.

"Pretty please?" Deele begged.

She turned towards the church and walked away.

"Quite the charmer, aren't you, boy?" Pierre teased. Deele rolled his eyes. "She's heavier than she looks," he said, nudging at the Jaeger hanging off his back. "Help me? Please?"

"I thought you would rather enjoy having her ample bosoms pressed against you," Pierre, grinning, said before emptying his aluminium mug.

"Yeah, yeah," Deele shook his head. "I had better."

"Hah! He's a womaniser, this one." The tech foreman smirked. He clipped his mug to his carabiner and shuffled to his junior's right side. "Let's get her off your back. Fox, take the left side."

The stitchings stretched tight, the false knee buckled, the shoulder and chest struts tugged against flesh and bone. Her cold arm hung stiffly over the neck. She was heavier than Skorpion by about twenty kilograms.

The toes dug into the cobbles. The servos whined, the false limbs struggled against her weight.

"So, Deele," Pierre asked in between breaths. "What's so special about her?"

"Just a regular Jaeger."

The feet left the cobbles and stepped upon the creaking floorboards. The 'operating table' rocked violently upon receiving the carcass.

"Hey! Be gentle with her!" Deele cried, startled.

Pierre grunted as he grasped his left shoulder and turned it around, clockwise, then anti-clockwise. Noting the bullet-hole punctured into her chest, he whistled. "Where'd you found her?"

Deele, having pulled up the console connected to the table, replied while tapping on it, "Halfway point between Checkpoints A and B."

"Closer to A or B?" The voice was hoarse.

"Exactly halfway," replied Deele as he made another series of taps. Insectoid mechanical arms descended upon the carcass, in response to his commands.

"Snow or Svet's handiwork, then." Pierre whistled. "Shot her square in the core."

"You are using Skorpion's nicknames?"

He chuckled softly. "Less of a mouthful. Dignified too, unlike that other lass'. What did she call her?" Pierre circled the chair and approached the workbench behind the aforementioned technician. "Right. 'Crabby'. So, Deele," he looked over his shoulder towards the younger technician, "What are you going to do with her?"

"I'm dismantling her," Deele replied as he made one final tap. The appendages unfurled, revealing saws, pincers, wedges and other assorted tools. "See if she has any parts compatible with DSI-8's."

Three saw-tipped appendages positioned themselves over Jaeger's torso, two to the right and middle of the collarbone, one to the right of the belly button.

Pierre raised his kettle towards us.

"Care for a cuppa?"

Deele heaved his tool bag onto the desk beside the operating table. He gave the kettle one look, then shook his head.

The false hand extended a thermos cap. It shuddered under the growing weight of the offered coffee.

The cutting arms retracted while another set of appendages, tipped with curved wedges, lowered the incisions.

"Think there's anything compatible with DSI-8's inside?" asked Deele.

"Maybe?" The senior technician unlatched his mug and filled it with coffee. "Obsolete or no, the model's still Sangvis." He gave his coffee a sip. "Why DSI-8's, specifically?"

"Personal project."

The coffee tasted like syrup, with a hint of caffeine.

"Huh." Pierre raised his brow, then gave his coffee another sip. "Might want to look away, Fox, if you are squeamish."

The wedge-like appendages pried the incisions apart. Chemical stench invaded the nostrils, fouling the mouthful of coffee inundating the tongue.

Swallowed the rancid brew, made an inquiry. "You can't simply swap any parts between this DSI-8 and this Jaeger?"

Pierre broke into an amused chuckle. "You think it would be that simple but...no." He ingested another mouthful of his drink and set his mug down. "Different production standards. Would be like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole."

Foul taste still sticking to the tongue. Sink opposite of the table. Poured away the remaining coffee, drained it down the pipe. Went for the kettle, refilled the container.

"The same with our dolls?"

The drink was thicker and far too sweet, enough to rot the teeth.

"Swapping parts between IOP doll models and their dummies? Yes." He took another sip of his coffee. He continued, unaffected by the foul taste, "Not to say there aren't any oddballs running around with old pre-standardised bits and pieces. Between Sangvis and IOP?" Pierre drummed his fingers, drank his coffee again, then exhaled, "...No."

The false skin and flesh peeled away, exposing the metal plate underneath. It was encased in bone-like ridges.

"Different fittings, different drivers, different sets of nuts, bolts and screws. Well," he pointed at the newly exposed chest-plate with his pinky. "Last chance to look away," he advised.

Deele made another series of probing cuts with a coroner's precision. He appeared to know but not know where to find what he sought. "Has to be a crack around here somewhere…" he murmured.

"You can just cut apart the chassis," Pierre suggested. Deele glanced at him, frowning. "No way," he protested. "Might risk damaging whatever part I could use." He pointed towards the opposite side of the table with his saw. "Why don't you help me search for a crack on the other side?"

Pierre set his mug down, put on his work gloves, retrieved his tool bag and departed the workbench. He walked to the opposite side of the operating table and crouched beside the carcass. "You don't really know where to find this crack, do you?" he asked as he rummaged for his tools, presumably the circular saw.

"I can guess," Deele shrugged as he returned to his work. "There are only so many ways to seal the torso casing."

"I suppose it is futile to salvage Sangvis carcasses for parts."

Pierre peered over the operating table for a moment. "No point. Nothing we can use from that pile." He raised his saw and brought it closer to her skin. "We can sell them to the recyclers but the transportation…"

"I can arrange that."

All eyes turned towards the drone hovering in through the door. 416, who had followed the drone, disengaged and leaned against the left side of the door. The drone floated towards Pierre's kettle, circled it three times, stopped, then wriggled in place. Persica, projected atop the drone, was hunching forward. Her eyes were narrowed, her 'cat ears' lowered, determined frown upon her lips. She had assumed a predator's stance.

Pierre and Deele stared at the drone, dumbfounded. 416, arms folded, looked on, saying nothing.

"Oh." The scientist's 'ears' twitched and stood upright. "Right. This drone doesn't have arms."

Pierre and Deele looked at each other and started performing a strange ritual. They nodded, bobbed and rhythmically shook their heads. After a while, the senior technician stood up, put on a nervous and somewhat confused smirk and called out to the drone, "Can you even drink through the drone?"

"Right!"

416 blinked. The drone had spoken too loudly and suddenly.

"I can't remotely drink the coffee." Persica lowered her voice and muttered to herself. Something about 'entanglements' and 'teleportation.' A moment later, she nodded to herself as though having come to a conclusion. "Worth investigating further."

Turning towards us, she continued, "As I was saying, leave the pile of Sangvis units to me."

She paused, then glided towards the operating table. "This specimen is in excellent condition." Her expression bordered between interest and apathy. "Hey, hey, hey!" Deele got up and waved his arms over the Jaeger. "I found her first! She's mine!"

Persica looked towards him with that same expression. After a moment, she arched her brow and smirked. "Oh, my," she cooed teasingly, "Such a womaniser at such a young age."

"What are your intentions for these Sangvis units?"

Persica's smirk dropped into a frown as she turned towards the kettle. "Now, why is it taking so long for the coffee…" she muttered distractedly. "Oh!" her ears stood up. "The Sangvis units." Her eyes focused on my person, a smirk formed upon her lips. "It's for research purposes. I will be comparing and contrasting them to the dolls we are supplying to Grifon and determine how they correlate with differences in performance…"

"...And we just happen to have a mountain of disabled Sangvis units right at our door, ripe for your harvest."

Persica blinked. The smirk turned into a bored frown. "I knew it…" she murmured. "Uncurious, just like Kryuger." She smirked again.

It seemed her expressions were limited to a spectrum of frowns and a cocky smirk.

"You should show more enthusiasm. This research will benefit Grifon and your company by extension. Anyway, this isn't the only reason why I have contacted you." A hint of excitement rising in her monotone. "I want you to hunt down…"

A hint of life shimmered in her dead eyes.

"...A Ringleader dummy."

All activities ceased. Deele, Pierre and 416 stared blankly at her. Her toothy smirk remained plastered on her face as she awaited a response.

The cold mug touched my lips. The true cheek contracted. A second gulp hadn't improved the flavour; the syrupy fluid had coated the tongue with sugary sediment.

Persica's ears lowered. "I'm not asking you to do anything bad…" She murmured, sounding disappointed and confused. "This is a private channel, and I do have old Kryuger's permission to contact you directly…"

Deele leaned towards Pierre. "What does she mean with Ringleader dummies?" he whispered. Pierre whispered back, "I don't know. Doesn't sound like the pile of minions we discussed earlier."

"I heard that," Persica announced suddenly, startling them. "That isn't what I'm referring to," she added huffily. "I'm referring to an actual Ringleader dummy unit." Her smirk reformed, excitement rising in her tone. She sounded like a child confronted with a toy she had always wanted. Or a cat pursuing a frightened mouse.

"There is one right here in subsector 2, and I want it."

**0603**

Springfield greeted us with a smile, warm as the sun-rays filtering through the roof. Her arms were wrapped around a crate of fresh produce. Back straight, shoulders unburdened, she bore her burden with ease.

"Are we having an operation?"

"Yes. In the next hour or so."

Her warmth waned, her smile faltered slightly. She appeared weary still, despite the sturdiness of her posture.

"I see. I will make us a quick breakfast."

Her right leg stretched forward, the start of a stride.

"...Springfield."

She paused, still wearing that same warm yet weary smile.

"Are you certain you are ready to return?"

She gazed upon her produce. All was silent. She closed her eyes and, a solemn moment later, nodded sharply and vigorously.

"Yes," she breathed. Her meadow-green eyes slowly opened. Her warmth returned. "Yes," she asserted, "I'm ready to return to duty. Besides…" Beaming, she shook the crate, rustling the produce within. "The hearth needs tending."

"...I see."

The drone's turbines hummed softly. 416 kept her silence.

Springfield cocked her head, gesturing towards the catacomb's gate.

"You should get back to work, Commander."

The moment we departed from each other, Persica started, "Ringleader dummies, not to be confused with the Sangvis minions, technically dummy links, by the way, are inferior copies of the original Ringleaders. Lesser hardware, more limited processors. They have their own digiminds, possibly a copy of the original's neural cloud…"

She paused. The sound of our strides swiftly interrupted the barely settling silence. The hollow crack of the tiles transitioned into the muffled stamps against packed dirt.

Persica continued, sounding dissatisfied, "The digimind is a series of connections unique to each doll, built into their cores. The neural cloud is the data, behavioural programs, memories, everything which dictates how the digimind works."

She paused. Her frown deepened. "Putting it on layman's terms, the digimind is the mind and the neural cloud is a collection of memories, thoughts, personality, everything the mind does."

Eerie blue ahead, holding back the dark.

Skorpion and Ingram, behind the Tactical Map, shot up onto their feet and broke into salutes. Kalina, projected from the holo-communicator, hastily removed her mug from view. "Cetin! Sarge!" Skorpion cried, "Good morning!"

Her right hand was tucking something behind her back.

Kalina, peering over their shoulders, widened her weary eyes. "Is that Persica?" she voiced her astonishment.

"At ease," I breathed.

The two juvenile T-Dolls relaxed, though Skorpion was still hiding something behind herself.

"Cetin!" Kalina's tone conveyed her urgency. "What's taking you? I have been trying to contact you for the past hour!"

Skorpion grinned nervously. Ingram glanced at her but kept a blank face.

Kalina's bangs were rolled up.

"Clearly not urgent enough, if you had the time for makeup and idle chatter."

"W-what!"

The eerie blue concealed the creeping blush very effectively. "Th-they are updating me on the going-on's around here! Anyway, we have a problem on our hands!"

She frantically gestured at the printer to the left of the table. "The Sangvis turned up in T06 an hour ago, and they are moving north-west, towards HVQQJ!"

False fingers flipping through the T06 printouts. Ten minutes intervals. Mass of red blips growing steadily at the foot of the manor. Approximately twenty to thirty units.

0530, the mass of red blips embarked towards the north-west. Numbers swelled to approximately fifty units.

0550, they exited the boundaries of T06. Numbers, approximately seventy units.

"Did you see how they arrived at T06?"

Kalina's mug disappeared off the edge of the projection. "No. It's like they just appeared there." Her face enlarged. She had leaned towards the Nerve Center's holo-communicator. "What's going on? I thought Executioner's dead!"

"Executioner's active," Persica informed. Kalina blinked. It felt as though the colour had drained off Kalina's face. The scientist, concluding this to be so, smirked, "Don't worry. She is too far away to be of concern. This one is a Ringleader dummy."

Kalina wore a confused look. "Don't Sangvis minions disperse and revert to roaming protocols the moment they are disconnected from a Ringleader?"

"She meant a lesser clone of the original Ringleader."

Kalina blinked. "A clone Ringleader?" she sounded astonished.

"Yes. Executioner's contingency."

"Witkin will want his ROI for lending me his satellites," Persica instructed. "Recover her for us intact. Or as intact as you can manage. I want her core." She looked aside, her ears perked up. "Oh, is the coffee ready?"

It took her a moment to refocus her attention. She smirked, "Don't worry. Lyco's notes stated the dummy's command capacity is less than fifty percent of the original's, and her combat efficiency is about seventy percent. Considering you did eliminate her original, this shouldn't be a problem for you."

She raised her mug, her projection winked out, the drone folded up and dropped onto the tactical map with a hollow clank.

"Did she…" Kalina's jaw was ajar. "Did she just disappear on us, just like that?"

"Track the Sangvis, get back to me every ten minutes."

Kalina blinked. She recomposed herself, her expression turned severe. "Yes, Commander. Will do." Her projection winked out.

"416."

The aforementioned T-Doll stood up straight and saluted.

"Gather your team. Spread the word."

"Understood." She turned her gaze towards Skorpion and Ingram. She knitted her brow and exhaled. "...Team Vindicator. Get prepped."

"...Team Vindicator?"

Skorpion's chest swelled. She hit her sternum and announced proudly. "I came up with the name. Cool, huh?"

False eyes turned to her left hand, tucked behind her back. The false hand extended towards her.

"The marker. Please."

**0705**

"How goes the defences?"

Lev gulped down a bite of his MRE and replied, "Barricade's done. Just sandbags and barbed wires but that's the best we can do on short notice. Still working on the claymores. Might need to make some IED's."

False eyes returned to Kalina's printouts, grasped firmly in the false hand.

T05, timestamp 0630. Sangvis close to the top-right corner of the printout, on the road directly towards Hevhj. Their numbers...two hundred units. Flipped to next printout. Timestamp 0650, area T04. Bottom-left edge of the printout, still on the road. Numbers...two hundred and twenty units.

They made no attempts to conceal their numbers or their trajectory.

T-Dolls filing into the mess hall. FAL picked up an MRE pack from the crate by the iron gate, appraised it and frowned. Skorpion waved energetically at Sten. Ingram consumed her meal sulkily.

"How quickly can you finish?"

Lev took another bite off his MRE, then scratched his chin. "With Papasha, Sudaev and the Night Guard helping us, another half an hour. Packing up the base will take much longer. Four hours."

The Sangvis will arrive in approximately two hours at their current pace.

"How much time can you shave by abandoning the non-essentials?"

"Aww, you want us to sleep on the floor tonight?"

Lev's boyish grin faded. His teeth disappeared behind his lips. "Two hours. We can only shave off two hours," he replied, with a severe frown.

A plastic click. Chalk-white screen snapped in place.

Skorpion once again made a face. Ingram was cleansing her palate with steaming coffee. Sten looked at them, then at her own MRE pack, before hesitantly twisted its cap.

M14 glanced at Springfield who had slid into the seat beside her. She nodded and smiled warmly before returning her attention to the screen. FNC nibbled on the mouth of her pack. FN49 snuck glances at her, one hand on her own meal and the other holding a napkin.

M4 sat at the back. 416 and G11 were on the opposite end of her row of benches, with SVD, SV-98, MG5 and MG4 between them.

The coffee washed down the throat. The caffeine flavour coating the tongue, and filling the nostrils. It carried a hint of cinnamon.

"None of us are pleased to wake up to MREs the second morning in a row." Thermos cap twisted in place. Container landed on the table with a hollow ring. "Fortunately, the ones responsible for our anguish will arrive in two hours. Lodge a complaint with them then."

"Lame!" Ingram jeered.

Skorpion nodded in agreement. She removed the pack from her mouth and said, "It's lame! You should have said that after the briefing!"

A grunt, followed by more coffee. The projector flickered on. First slide, T05 - timestamp 0630. Second slide, T04 - timestamp 0650. A brief introduction delivered. Sangvis numbering almost three hundred as of the start of the briefing, led by Executioner's dummy, moving towards Hevhj. ETA, two hours.

Hands raised, doubts voiced and answered. Pierre assisted with the technical questions.

Map of Hevhj projected on the screen. Crosses on Northern Checkpoint, Northern Cliffside and Southern Checkpoint A. Blocky lines at Southern Checkpoint B.

In the previous two slides, the dummy had a vanguard screen consisting of Rippers and Prowlers. A large force of Jaegers and Vespids protected her flank and rear. Team Vindicator, Skorpion insisted, would peel the vanguard away from the dummy and draw her into the Town Square. Team FAL and Team MG5, positioned in the houses flanking the checkpoint, will cut off her rearguard as soon as she was lured into position. Team Springfield and Team SVD will catch the Executioner dummy in their crossfire.

"Team Springfield and Team SVD."

SVD jerked suddenly. SV-98 frowned and shook her head.

"You are to disable the dummy. Target her head and limbs. Leave the torso intact. Persica's insistence."

Springfield slowly stood up. "Commander," she started. "It will be best if FN49 and I join up with SVD and SV-98."

"They will automatically share the same network if they are in the same echelon," Pierre advised. "Easier to sync their shots."

"Kommandir!" SVD had shot onto her feet. "I will agree to this but only if you let me keep my position as team leader!" She glanced at Springfield with cold eyes. "I am not taking directions from a retiree of three years!"

"SVD!" SV-98 chided.

M14 twisted her neck towards SVD. Skorpion crumpled her MRE pack suddenly, staining her cheek with the colourless goo. Ingram started coughing. FAL rose onto her feet, face red, mouth opened, about to unleash a volley of scathing remarks.

"You may use me as you please."

M14, jaw dropped, gawked at Springfield with wide eyes. The Mess Hall fell into a deafening silence.

Springfield continued to smile gently. "I agree to SVD's terms," she emphasised.

SVD's smirk would not be dampened by SV-98's glare. "Good. Good." She looked about, noting Skorpion's scowl and FAL's withering gaze. "You can have her head, Tovarisch Springfield."

"...Are you sure about this? You are the more experienced sniper."

Springfield beamed radiantly. There was weariness lurking behind her gentle face, a hint of rain on the sunny sky. "I'll be fine."

A sigh escaped. "...So be it, then."

Lev had tucked his napkin into his pocket.

"Lev, anything you can't move onto the helo, move away from the Town Square. You have one hour and thirty minutes. Extract via helo and return to Subsector 1 once the time is up."

He nodded in affirmation.

The T-Dolls rose from their seats. Skorpion and Ingram knocked their forearm. Ingram then headed for the exit while Skorpion skipped towards me. Sten glanced at Skorpion, then myself, before tagging along with the patchwork T-Doll.

Lev motioned at Pierre, who in turn put down his coffee and signalled at Papasha and Sudaev.

Picked up the Command Tablet, tapped on the echelons tab.

Echelon 3...SVD, SV-98, Springfield, FN-49. Nagant Revolver as spotter. False finger hovered over the confirmation button.

"Both of you are going to dismantle the Command Room."

The words reverberated within my ears. The false eyes widened, the neck cracked as they tore away from the Command Tablet.

"Pack everything but the Comms equipment. We need it to get in touch with you from Subsector 1."

"Do not remove anything from the Command Room."

All activities ceased, all present eyes were transfixed on my person. Sudaev lowered her right arm and closed her mouth. Murmurs erupted. "Excuse me?" Lev mouthed in astonishment.

"Do not remove anything from the Command Room."

"Look, Fox," said Lev, rubbing his forehead, "The Tactical Map and its auxiliary equipment are the single most essential pieces of kit Grifon has in its inventory. If there is anything we most definitely should bring back with us, it's that."

"Does Grifon place greater importance on expenses over its Commanders' ability to perform their duties?"

"What are you…" Lev's mouth was gaping wide. "No, that's not what I meant. I'm saying…"

He closed his mouth. His eyes had widened. It seemed as though he had come upon a revelation. "You are planning to stay behind?"

"...Am I not supposed to?"

"Cetin!" Skorpion shouted in alarm. "If you stay here, Executioner could kill you! You have to leave!"

"Listen to her!" Lev insisted. "You are the single most important person in this company. You should evacuate with us!"

Were they encouraging me to desert my post, abandon my people, just as Skorpion's former Commander did?

"The Commander must remain at his station and oversee the operation to its conclusion."

"What?" Lev blinked. "Where...How…" Lev buried his face in his palm. "Look, just do it with the Command Tablet, like when we first arrived here."

False thumb hovering over the confirmation button. Tapped on it. Another tap, Hevhj winked onto the screen. The map lacked all but the most barebone of details unless further zoomed-in, limiting the view of the battlefield.

"The device is inadequate. The Command Room stays. I will stay."

"Cetin!" Skorpion tugged on my right sleeve. With red cheeks and trembling lips, she pleaded, "You are putting yourself in danger! Executioner's coming here, remember?" She looked and sounded upset.

"I'm putting everyone at risk by not remaining here. I will not abandon my post."

"...But…"

"The dummy is pursuing M4, not me. This will not be her first destination."

She pursed her lips and tugged on the sleeves tighter. She wasn't convinced.

A sigh escaped the lips. "Seal the entryway behind me." False eyes turned to Lev. He had folded his arms, his expression was a confusing mix of emotions. "Lev, we do have surplus sandbags, don't we?"

He shook his head. "This idiot…" He sighed. "Yes. Yes, we do have surpluses, but," he raised his tone, his voice assumed a coarse quality, "that's not the point!"

"We have an alternate strategy."

It was Springfield, once again wearing that unreadable smile. SVD and M4 had followed close behind her. Springfield strode behind M4 and placed her hands on her shoulder. M4 blinked, as though shaken from a stupor. She looked at me, then at Springfield. Her expression was that of nervous doubt.

"Inform the Commander of your plan," said Springfield, gently but firmly.

M4 shot me another nervous glance.

"Come on, Tovarisch M4." SVD slapped M4's back, pushing her forward. "You do have a plan! Inform him and show him what you can do!"

Another round of nervous glances from M4. Springfield smiled encouragingly, SVD showed her an upturned thumb. SV-98, who had joined her, looked indecisive on how she should respond to SVD's behaviour. M4 sighed, slapped her cheeks twice, then looked straight into the false eyes.

There was uncertainty lurking in her dark brown eyes.

"C-Commander," she started with a stammer. "I...I believe we can eliminate any risk to yourself and the Auxiliary Guard if we…" She began to deflate.

"Don't get cold feet now!" SVD goaded. "Come on, M4!"

SV-98 scowled at her in response. M4 glanced at the two snipers from over her shoulder, redirected her gaze towards the false eyes and exhaled, "...if we move the battleground to the village to our southwest."

T03. Village by the forest at the north-eastern border of the zone, where we first encountered Executioner.

"We can apply your original strategy to this village. I will lure the Sangvis in via a jeep. This will divert their trajectory away from Hevhj."

"...You do not have dummies, and you are pitting yourself against between three hundred to five hundred Sangvis units."

M4 looked aside for a moment. "They do not have Dragoons, and the Jaegers need to stop and take aim. I can outpace them. Also," her dark eyes glimmered with confidence, "I have fought Executioner on my own. I can handle this and…" A small smile formed upon her lips, showing her wavering confidence, "I won't be fighting alone, am I?"

"There are three entry points into the village."

"Executioner's strategies are direct. She won't think to divert her forces through all the entry points…"

"She showed flexibility yesterday. Split her forces into two, sent one to besiege us and pitted the other against you."

M4 fell silent. "...one MG to cover each entryway...if they are supported by Papasha, Sudaev, MP40 and FAL or Sturmgewehr...No, two echelons, one MG in each…"

"What about the forest path to the north?"

She blinked and frowned. "I don't think she would do that, Commander…" She fell silent once more. Her fragile confidence had waned, her doubt had resurfaced.

"She won't use that path," SVD stepped forward and interjected. Posture upright, eyes focused, she brimmed with self-assurance. "From what Skorpion, Ingram and FAL told me yesterday, Executioner's direct and very single-minded."

"Yet she knew to split her forces in an attempt to occupy us and retrieve M4."

SVD grinned. She turned to bark at the Day Captain, "Hey, Lev! You were there with us at Southern Checkpoint B! Back me up on this!"

Lev folded his arms and replied, "Tell him yourself. You have perfect recall."

"He trusts you more than he does me, remember?"

With a sigh, he recounted, "Their formation was a mess. About ten minutes into the siege, their organisation broke down…"

"Jaegers in front with the Rippers, Prowlers falling behind the Vespids, entire groups marching right into the incendiary wall..."

Lev scowled. "You just told him yourself!"

The sniper merely smirked in reply.

The Guard Captain clenched his teeth and exhaled. "Next time, I will ask Pierre to extract your memory files."

"Not without my permission, you won't." She peered towards Skorpion, "Isn't that right, Tovarisch?"

Skorpion simply cocked her head in reply.

SVD continued, "The diversionary force she sent against Hevhj was a throwaway meant to buy herself time to capture M4." Her teeth emerged from behind her lips. "She thought you a coward, Kommandir."

A sharp snort. Ingram coughed aside.

SV-98 scowled at her partner. Unaffected by the ferocity emanating from her, SVD continued, "Her ability to adapt is woeful. Took too long to direct her manor encirclement force to intercept Team 416…"

"Team Vindicator!"

A twitch on SVD's brow. "...Team Vindicator and her resistance against Team FAL's manoeuvre is clumsy."

"I...I think…" M4 stuttered, "I think once the dummy sees me, she will attempt pursuit via the most direct path. Splitting her forces to cover the two entryways would be the most she would think to do."

"Persica did say the dummy is less capable than the original," Pierre pointed out.

"Perhaps we can strike a compromise?" Springfield offered, firmly and confidently.

A sigh exhaled. "Fine." False eyes returned to M4. The wavering light in her eyes belied her confident front. "Finalise your plan. Once you are done, we can discuss compromises."

M4 nodded. "I...I will." Another stutter.

Another escaped sigh. "Thirty minutes. I grant you thirty minutes."

**0910**

"Commander!"

The tactical map painted 416's pale visage in ghastly blue. She demanded, "Why is my team held back in Hevhj?"

Village on the tactical map. Blue blips concentrated at the south-eastern quadrant of the village square. Tiss and her dummies had set down ammunition crates behind four MG5 dummies, all standing stiffly as though assembling for a parade.

"Your team is held back as a precaution."

Caffeinated chill washing down the parched throat. The fluid was bereft of flavour. The cap rang hollow against the desk.

"Precaution, Commander?"

416 folded her arms and arched a brow. Her scepticism was in full display.

Papasha ran a loose wire from one barrel to another, on the opposite sides of the South-Eastern Approach. Sudaev did the same at the Eastern Approach.

"A precaution, in case the Sangvis decides to besiege us instead of pursuing M4."

The thermos rattled. Steam rose from its cap.

Springfield, SVD and their dummies disappeared into the houses to the north and south of the square. M14's took her position in the shophouse to the east, between the two approaches. P7 and Nagant Revolver, facing each other, were vigorously swinging their arms up and down. They seemed to be having a contest.

The nostrils caught an aromatic scent wafting from the cap.

"Is this part of your compromise with M4?"

416's glare took on a piercing quality.

"Yes."

The coffee carried a hint of cinnamon.

"Isn't it nice, Sarge?" Skorpion's chair stopped rocking, her kicking legs falling still. Grinning cheekily, she leaned towards 416. "We are the honour guard."

416 stared at her wordlessly.

"M4 to Command," the headphones sounded.

A jeep fast approaching the south-eastern edge of the AO. MG5's mainframe unit on the ringmount, M4 at the wheel. The driver's seat was missing its door.

"Dust ahead. The Sangvis...I think. Approaching fast."

Red blips winked onto the tactical map, rapidly closing towards the two overlapping blue blips.

"Visual on Executioner's dummy."

The sprinting dummy centred on the micro-drone feed, barely concealed by a dusty screen.

"Moving to engage."

The two overlapping blue blips stopped. The jeep had swung ninety degrees, exposing the driver's seat to the stampeding horde. Muzzle flashes from the vehicle. M4's shots sparked off a Prowler's chassis, tearing off plating and puncturing tires. The Prowler yawed, skidded then violently careened back.

A vertical shockwave cleaved through the dust screen and the Prowler. It missed the jeep, the vehicle had sped forward. M4 spun her transport towards the village and drove away.

"M4 to Command. The dummy saw me. Disengaging."

The pursuing Prowlers picked up speed. Three were immediately cut down by MG5's fire.

"416. Skorpion. Return to your stations."

416 lifted her gun, saluted, turned around and marched up the steps. Skorpion leapt onto her feet, skipped towards me and showed me her left forearm. She grinned. "Forearm bump. For good luck. Just repeat what Ingram and I did."

A sigh. Raised the true arm, bent the elbow, felt the impact against the back of the limb.

"Break a leg. You don't want to be yelled at by Sarge, do you?"

Skorpion showed her teeth. "We'll all be back, safe and sound." She spun around, made for the iron gate and pitter-pattered up the steps.

"M4 to Team FAL." The headphones sounded again. "Status on the IED's?"

Papasha and Sudaev had disappeared into one of the shophouses. Their dummies were spreading out into the nearby alleys.

"Team FAL to M4. The clever little misses have finished their bricolage. M14's in position. We are ready for the cortège."

"M4 to Team SVD…"

"Already in position since fifteen minutes ago."

The jeep swerved right, narrowly avoiding another shockwave. A volley of energy bolts struck the vehicle in the split-second between MG5's fire, deforming its rear door and shattering its rear window.

"M4 to Team SVD. Acknowledged. We are on the way. ETA ten minutes."

"Team FAL to M4. Hurry up. I don't want to keep Springfield away from the kitchen for much longer."

Tiss jogged out of the alley and rejoined Sturmgewehr. They, and their dummies, then dispersed to their designated positions in the middle house at the end of the two approaches, alongside M14.

"FAL to Springfield. Any more ingredients for brioche, perchance?"

Another series of bright flashes struck the jeep. The rear door was hanging at its hinges. MG5, having finished reloading, twisted her gun towards the offending Prowlers and resumed firing.

"SVD to FAL, I will hurl if I have to eat any more of your pretentious bourgeois cuisine. I want meat on the menu!"

The jeep swerved right, hard, narrowly avoiding another shockwave.

"Springfield here. Focus on the mission, or we will all be having rations for lunch."

The jeep had lost its door when it reached the upward slope of the South-Eastern Approach. MG5 sent three more Prowlers crashing into the closing throng. One of the rolling robots was cleft through by Executioner, who in turn repositioned her blade and launched a horizontal shockwave.

The attack sliced through the left side of the jeep, causing it to spin out of control. MG5 jumped off the roof. She avoided bisection by a hair. Her dummies shuddered to life and swiftly repositioned, even as the mainframe raced into the closest alley.

M4 disembarked from the driver's seat and fired three bursts at the closing dummy ringleader. Executioner raised her sword, intercepted the incoming projectiles, then fired her pistol.

Her shots struck the road. She had missed, she was aiming for M4's leg.

The T-Doll fired three more bursts as she retreated up the road. She must have seen the Rippers and Vespids closing rapidly, as the headphones emitted her next order.

"M4 to Team FAL. I need covering fire."

A sweeping gale blanketed south-eastern approach in dust and detritus. Two staggered tracer streams scythed down the road, cutting down the last of the Prowlers and culling the advancing infantry.

"Team FAL to M4. Dieu merci pour moi."

Executioner continued her advance despite her newfound predicament. Slowly, at first, stalled by M4's continuous fire, then swiftly the moment M4 turned to run. Within a heartbeat, she had closed the gap and was poised to strike.

M4 spun around and fired another three-round burst, catching the dummy in her right eye and forcing her back. The dummy ringleader launched another shockwave in retaliation. She missed her opponent by a wide margin.

M4 continued to back away from the dummy, towards the village square, firing burst after burst as she did so. Executioner shielded herself, though more of the shots penetrated her guard and punctured her left shoulder and shin.

She made a sudden lunge at M4. As though anticipating it, M4 sidestepped to her left and slammed her buttstock into the dummy's forehead. Executioner staggered back. M4 then struck her right arm, frustrating her retaliation.

The red blips were separating from the main body and moving into the alleys.

"M4 to Team FAL. Cover the Eastern Approach."

Executioner sprung forward, ramming M4 with her right shoulder. They passed the barricade at the mouth of the South-Eastern Approach. The dummy ringleader then slashed upwards for her opponent's arm, forcing her to back away.

The diverging Sangvis units were cut down by BAR, aboard Siskin 1, the moment they emerged from the alley.

Blue blips moved out of the buildings to cover the mouth of the approaches. Three MG5's at the South-Eastern Approach, two at the Eastern Approach, backed up by an even distribution of Tisses and Sturmgewehrs.

The Rippers and Vespids continued to advance, heedless of the perforation of their ranks. Jaegers took their positions at the rearmost rank and were immediately engaged by M14.

M4 continued her retreat, though she stayed close to Executioner. She countered her opponent's swings with precise strikes to her sword-arm.

The massive blade soared out of the dummy ringleader's grip. M4 stalled in surprise and was swiftly punished with a right hook.

Executioner then surged forward and kneed the sprawling M4 in the belly. The assault rifle clattered, the dummy ringleader had caught and twisted M4's left wrist. She raised her right elbow, slowly, indulgently, triumphantly, and was subsequently swallowed by a dust cloud.

Two red clusters, twenty to fifty units in each, had vanished from the map. Two more winked out half a second later. The remaining Sangvis units charged up the Southern Approach and were in turn eliminated by Papasha's grenades. She, her sister and their dummies then rushed out to engage the reeling Sangvis units.

M4 kicked at the stalled Executioner, freeing herself. Before the dummy could stop M4 from regaining her weapon, Nagant Revolvers and P7's had charged out of the surrounding houses and waylaid her. Executioner shielded herself with her right arm, snapped her pistol at Nagant and was struck in her temple by another burst fire.

"M4 to Team SVD…" Thunderous discharges interrupted her command.

Executioner's blip winked out.

**1107**

SVD was smiling very smugly. "We've made it back alive." The loud thud of the dummy ringleader's carcass punctuated her proclamation. "And we've brought back the prize."

The carcass was missing half its head, its limbs hanging on fibres of carbon and alloy. Only the torso remained intact.

The sniper rested her knuckles against her hips, her chest swelled with pride. Two seconds, three, she remained rooted on the spot.

"She's expecting praise," whispered SV-98.

Thoughts turned to the operation. Coordinated crossfire, Executioner's life snuffed out like fretting candlelight in a windy night.

The nostrils exhaled, the false jaw creaked. "...Excellent coordination and coverage. Eliminated the dummy with a single volley. You and Springfield performed magnificently."

Her face glowed, yet she remained unmoving.

Skorpion's elbow bumped against the abdomen, her clenched fist peeked from behind her.

SVD's expression lit up. "Khorosho." She nodded approvingly as we brought our fists together.

She passed us by and was immediately accosted by SV-98.

"You didn't cause trouble for Springfield, I hope?"

"Who do you think I am? A svolach? Of course, I didn't."

"Hey, Commander! Commander!" P7 cried excitedly. Executioner's sword dropped beside the carcass with a low clang. "We helped! Praise us!"

A sigh as we knocked our knuckles together. "Give us a head pat!" She pointed at the spot between her ears. "Head pat!"

"Give _us _a head pat?" Nagant sounded indignant. She puffed up her chest, hit the spot below her left collarbone and proudly declared, "I am an esteemed officer from the days of yore! A head pat is beneath me!"

"Come on…Head pat! Head pat!" P7 demanded. She raised herself on tiptoes and thrust her head upwards with a hop.

Skorpion's elbow once again bumped against the abdomen.

Raised the true palm, pressed it against the cowl, felt the finely-woven fabric brushing against the skin. P7's ears twitched and flicked as she purred contentedly. One of her strange cross-pupil opened to peer at Nagant. Her lips curled up, forming a mischievous, self-satisfied smirk.

Nagant Revolver's cheeks crimsoned like a sudden fever. She ground her teeth, threw her arms up and exclaimed aloud, "I'm going to look for Dimas! He must hear of the accomplishments of his babushka, he must!"

"...Barracks."

She dashed off, brushing past Pierre before I could speak further.

"Mighty fleet for someone with such short legs," commented the Tech Foreman as he closed towards us. He stopped, looked at the carcass and whistled. "Ho. Not a single bullet in the torso. They even recovered the sword."

Another bump, this time against the palm. "Scratch the back of my ears this time," P7 demanded.

"Oi, P7!" Skorpion reprimanded. "That's greedy! Hey!"

P7 scampered out of Skorpion's reach, bolted for the church, stopped at the halfway point, twirled towards us and taunted, "Nyahahaha! Skorpion's jealous! Je-a-lous! Nyahahaha!" She then disappeared beyond the double-gate before Skorpion could give chase. The eyepatched T-Doll stamped her feet, wrung her arms and grumbled frustratedly.

A sharp whistle. Ingram's gaze lingered on the sword. "Cool. Executioner's sword." She whistled again as she continued to admire the long blade.

"Persica had already laid claim on it."

Her shoulders slumped forward. "Awwww…"

"Commander! Commander!" BAR trotted towards us, wearing a goofy smile, gripping her weapon behind her. Swaying left and right, she said, "I worked hard today." Pointing towards her head, she requested, "Headpat, please~."

FAL, who had followed close behind, frowned disapprovingly.

"...FAL?"

FAL twirled her left bang. "I suppose I didn't yell at her today."

"See? I worked hard," BAR shamelessly insisted.

FAL looked aside. "FAL?" I pressed.

She sighed disgruntledly. "Her reload time is five percent instead of ten percent slower than her dummies today. Her accuracy is still below her dummies' by ten percent."

BAR placed her hand behind her head and laughed nervously. "Hehehe... it's still an improvement, right?"

A twitch on FAL's brow. "You are still dragging your feet."

BAR continued with her buffoonish laughter.

"...I see."

"So…" BAR beamed, in spite of her team leader's criticism. "Head pat?"

"No."

"Awwwww…" Her hair flaps seemed to droop, like ears of a reprimanded dog.

Sudaev and Papasha had put down their gear and hurried over to the Southern Checkpoint. They looked eager, presumably to return to labour.

Sturmgewehr was already gone. A glimpse of her was caught earlier. Her hair, usually straight, was dishevelled. She was brushing her uniform frantically as she headed towards the barracks.

MG5 had linked up with MG4 and retired to the church. Tiss was prancing about, calling out for FMG-9, who had already made herself scarce. MP40 stopped for a while to gawk at Tiss. She shook her head, disapprovingly.

The false eyes met M14's. They were too far away to be of effect. The sniper nodded and continued on to the church.

Springfield passed by, looking lost in thought.

"...Springfield," I called out.

She stopped, then regarded me with a gentle yet morose smile, like sunlight over the breaking clouds.

"...How are you feeling?"

Her smile dimmed. "I'm fine."

She watched Papasha climb aboard the power loader with distant eyes. Sudaev cried something, making a sound like an excitable puppy. Papasha ceased her activities, leaned out of the machine and replied softly. The pink T-Doll nodded vigorously, her braid flailed, bounced and wagged like a puppy's tail.

"Vengeance doesn't suit me, after all."

"...I see."

"So, how was the coffee?" Her radiance returned, her eyes glimmered like tarnished jade.

"...The cinnamon reminded me of happier times."

"I see." She brought her hands together. "I'm going to change the recipe tomorrow. Would you kindly taste-test for me?"

"Depends on the recipe."

Still beaming, she concluded, "That's a promise."

"I didn't…"

She had already left.

Inhaled. Exhaled. Looked about. Papasha, atop her power loader, and Sudaev, on the ground, were speaking to Lev. After a while, Papasha got down from her machine. The sisters then followed the Day Guard Captain towards the church.

Skorpion and Ingram had hoisted up the sword. Skorpion lifted the blade, Ingram carried the hilt. After a count of three, Skorpion released the edge and Ingram spun about on the spot. The sword swerved and crashed into the cobbles. Ingram sulkily dropped the sword, while Skorpion laughed at her.

The light above dimmed, the ground below creaked. The air was inundated with an acrid chemical stench.

"Commander." 416 saluted, her calm voice almost drowned by the orchestra of insectoid mechanical limbs.

Amongst their harmony was M4, looking upwards towards the overhead lamp. She winced, her single functioning eye flickered as she turned towards me. Half her face was opened up, exposing a mess of wires beneath her eye socket. The chemical stench rose from the opened hole on her torso, its source rapidly drained by a myriad of plastic tubes.

Deele half-stumbled from beyond the curtain. He was heaving a crate of replacement parts. "Hey, Commander," he greeted with the polite, yet strained smile of an interrupted workman.

He put down the crate. "That kick ruptured her bioreactor. Minor corrosion on her other components. The repairs will be complicated, and the parts will need to be replaced but..." He rose, wiped his brow and smiled assuringly, "she's going to be fine."

"...Commander," M4 croaked. She inhaled, then exhaled. A pained wheeze caught in her throat.

The false jaw creaked open.

She lowered her eyes, casting it in shadow. A subtle twitch on the edge of her grimacing lips.

"Keeping pace with the Sangvis horde for longer than necessary, continuing to engage Executioner's dummy at close combat despite being ill-equipped for it. You have assured me you would minimise risk."

Words which should be said, words the throat held back.

The mouth closed, then exhaled a sigh. "That isn't the face of a victor. Chin up."

_Time...1300. Our departure is delayed. An unexpected appearance of Executioner's dummy. M4 had neutralised her but…_

_|Sighs|_

_Captain, you once told me upon donning the commander's mantle, my life would be forfeit. That my life would belong not to me, but to my brothers. That for as long as they live, I must live also. _

_I would be obligated to remove myself from risk and take every measure to remain out of danger. _

_Self-sacrifice, a luxury I can no longer afford. _

…

_M4 did the opposite of all your instructions. She now lies stricken in the repair bay. _

…

_|Drinks|_

_We can't depart until she is restored to working order._

…

_I suppose I will take in the scenery until then. _

**1800**

Dull pain erupted from the shoulder, the skull, the arm. A loud creak to the right, the cargo strained against the straps. Another thud. Yellow on the lap, hair decoration dug into flesh. Her torso rose and fell languidly. She was at peace, oblivious to the truck's convulsion.

Gleaming eyes before me. Dull green, not crimson red this time. 416 kept her stiff upper lip, untroubled by the snores rising from her lap.

One blink, two, she looked out of the flap.

Green, and brown, painted fierce yellow by the angry sun.

The nostrils stung, the eyes watered. The truck's wipers toiled against the rising dust.

Palms gently grip Skorpion's shoulders. They gingerly propped her against the wall. Another bump. She tumbled onto the false arm.

A violent lurch, a dull screech from the right, the front of the truck. Skorpion shuddered, awoken by the rumbling engine. "Are we there yet?" she asked, rubbing her eye.

The familiar towers passed us by.

Boot-stamps on solid ground. Auxiliary guardsmen and T-Dolls filed out of their transports. A twig snapped against the cheek. Coughing complaints erupted around, directed at the descending helos.

"Cetin!" cried Kalina, running towards us, her hair dishevelled by the gust.

Her chest shuddered as she gasped for breath. "We...we have intercepted a transmission." She wiped the sweat off her brow. "It's...Sangvis. Not encrypted. Burst. It came from subsector 3."

Springfield, passing by, gave us a nod.

Dinner, 2000. Don't be late.

Stomping boots following Kalina's wake. The door slid open, the room lit up. Servers blinked, radios chattered, strange machines whined. She flipped the switch. Statics filled the room.

"Grifon and Kryuger, this Team AR, broadcasting over Sangvis frequency."

A loud clatter behind us. "AR-15!" M4 exclaimed.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_|Sighs|_

_|Drinks|_

…

_A word, once given, cannot be taken back._

…

_You taught me this. A lesson in trust._

…

_|Sighs|_

_It's zero three hundred...One hour before departure._

…

…

_I dislike going blind. Especially into the enemy's home ground. You know this. _

…

_The timing is too convenient. A burst transmission on the same day as the fall of the dummy Executioner? _

_Hunter, the Ringleader, trapping them in Novum Sambir. Persica implied Executioner had returned, but not in the position to press her assault. Perhaps she had communicated her failure to Hunter. _

_If so, Hunter may have allowed this transmission to be sent, as bait, a trap for M4A1._

…

_I had seen M4's expression when she heard from AR-15. It was that of trepid ecstasy. She was eager to return to the field and reunite with her. A different person from her usual demeanor. Closer to when she was in combat but...not quite. _

_Executioner may have uncovered her character and communicated this to Hunter...or Hunter herself had deduced AR-15's value to her and acted upon it upon hearing of Executioner's defeat._

…

_Was the Dummy Executioner meant to buy her the time to lay down this trap?_

…

_|Drinks|_

…

_The study of Novum Sambir confirmed the weaknesses of the UAVs. _

_Dummy Executioner's forces appeared like a mirage given substance...the drone was unable to detect their rallying until they reached a specific density. _

…

_We had run into this same trouble with Novum Sambir. We can perceive the border blockades but not the border patrols, at least not immediately._

_We had to zoom in the view and monitor that particular grid until something came along. _

_Five Scouts, loose formation, barely perceivable._

…

_The UAV's cameras cannot penetrate concrete roofs either. _

…

_Pierre told me any concealed enemy will appear on the Tactical Map as soon they are discovered by the T-Dolls. Information routed from all participants of the Echelon to the command equipment via the Team Leader through the Zenner Network, he said. _

_..._

_|Drinks|_

_..._

_He had intended to provide assurance. Yet, knowing the fog of war is in effect in the enemy's home ground...his confidence brings no comfort. Would have preferred sending in the scouts, get the lay of the land but AR-15 may not have the time. _

…

_Home ground, close quarters…_

_There is no worse place to combat Hunter than this city. _

_The streets...too open. Excellent place for her to leverage her numbers advantage. Jaegers, Vespids, Prowlers, Scouts…_

_Dinergates..._

_The alleys? Perfect hunting ground for the Ringleader. Easily blocked off by the Guards._

…

_Guards. Shield-bearers. They exist within the Sangvis repertoire. _

_Block passages, box us in various potential killing fields scattered all across the city. _

_Grenades will be indispensable, as would the snipers. However, such wasted time may prove fatal. _

…

_M4A1 as bait. Draw Hunter out of the alleys and into the buildings. _

_Not ideal, considering M4's penchant for self-sacrifice. Yet...our best option for dealing with the Ringleader._

_Trickery will need to be employed. Feints. Something unorthodox. I had prepared as best as I could, to utilise any conceivable tactic to bring Hunter low...though...the Ringleader's ability to see through the eyes of her minions could complicate matters. _

_Rest is up to the T-Dolls. And to Fortune._

…

_|Drinks|_

_Heh. Relying on fickle Fortune. _

_..._

_Zero three twenty…_

_I wonder if Ingram and 416's tutoring went well. Papasha, Sudaev and Sten had missed the timing of their grenades last I saw them. FAL barely passed the mark. At least they were able to control the dummies but…_

_...Load management issues, said 416._

…

_I am departing. Watch over us, Captain._

**0330**

Infernal beeps. Helianthus over the holo-projector. Visage...stern...but weary. Hair...straight...like freshly pressed clothes.

"Commander Yilmaz. Your psychiatrist didn't exaggerate on your sleeping habits."

"...Vice-Director Helianthus."

The voice croaked. Dry...like the dust outside.

Vodka bottle...three-quarters empty. The holographic map...distorted. Its light diffracted against the glass and its transparent content.

"...You are early."

Silent. Stern gaze. Statics. She sighed, removed her monocle.

"You aren't making it easy for us."

She wiped the lens.

"We have reviewed your after-action report and M4A1's memory log."

"So you have discerned my intention."

Lens perched on her nose

"You are planning to rescue the remainders of Team AR, and you will be departing by..." Pulled up her left sleeve, glanced at her metal watch, "...zero-four-hundred, twenty-eight minutes from now."

"You wish for me to stand down."

A subtle twitch. Her frown lifted slightly, a hint of amusement. "On the contrary, HQ is giving you the go-ahead."

The severeness returned, "On one condition."

**0610**

"She wants us to capture Novum Sambir," Lev uttered slowly, savouring every syllable.

Tablet scraped the tongue, its powdery residues washed down by flooding water. The neck creaked, the chin bobbed up and down.

The Day Guard Captain looked about.

Sudaev, Olaf and Leopold were digging foxholes. Papasha, aboard her Power Loader, unloaded the dummy containers under Pierre's supervision. The members of Team SVD, Team M4A1 and Team HK416, scattered among the collection of opened ammo crates, were checking and packing their equipment in preparation for the long day ahead.

416 had finished packing her kit and had started work on G11's. She stoically tucked the long, black beams, G11's magazines, into her magazine pouches just beneath her dishevelled coat. If she had detected FAL's disgruntled glare, she showed no indication.

FAL, having given up willing 416's demise with her gaze alone, returned to filling Papasha's pack with grenades and drum magazines. Sturmgewehr, doing the same with Sudaev's bag, glanced at both of them, then released a weary and likely nervous sigh.

"With only this lot?" Lev conveyed his misgivings.

Another slow nod.

He gulped down his coffee.

"Three echelons into the city, one to remain here. Our plan hasn't changed."

"We aren't going to find Hunter with just three three-fifth strength echelons, Fox." Lev drank his coffee again. "Novum Sambir may not be Kyiv or even Lviv, but it is still a big enough place to hide a Ringleader."

Concrete blocks rising over the morning haze. Unpainted prefabs, sterile and without character, quite unlike the science-fiction bizarreness of the Sangvis combatants.

M4A1 visible behind the command tent's flap, by the Tactical Map, engrossed in the study of the surveillance print-outs. The ringing of the comms mast, still being erected by David, did not disturb her.

"AR-15 will lead us to Hunter, or she will come to us."

"Go to M4, you mean," Lev interjected.

Another slow nod.

Lev raised his thermos cap to his lips. As he sipped on his steaming beverage, he blinked. His gaze hung beyond my right shoulder.

A chopping sound in the wind. Faint, distant, rapidly closing.

The dry soil clumped against the right side of the boots, forming a minuscule dune.

A brown-and-green Mi-17, coming from the South. Not Siskin 1 or Siskin 2. They would have come from the north.

"Are we expecting visitors?" Lev asked with a whisper.

"M4's dummy delivery."

Lev arched his brow.

"We are instructed not to proceed with the operation until its arrival."

He raised his thermos cap and silently sup on it. A sudden gale, a rising whirlwind of sand and dust. His beverage spilt onto the dusty ground. He coughed, gagged and spat violently.

Clenching, gagging throat. Sand and dirt, tumbling up the nostrils, clawing at the false eyes.

A creak. The helo's landing wheels had touched the ground. Rotors died, the storm subsided.

Skorpion almost collided with the true arm. Ingram jogging close behind.

The side-hatch cracked open and slid aside. A pair of silver pigtails styled like pincers bobbed and swayed as their owner hopped out.

"Cetin! Look away!"

Firm tug against the left sleeve. 416, Sten, and the others were gawking.

"It's Crabby!"

"What did I ever do to you?"

MG4 and FNC running towards us. FNC's path was direct, MG4's circuitous, rounding the hill-slope.

"Crabby, quick! Hide your eyes!"

"What? Why?" The child-like voice was sharp, confused and outraged.

"Just do it!"

"Skorp, her eyes aren't yellow, they are _orange_," said Ingram with a half-giggle.

"Not taking chances!"

"What? What's wrong with my eyes? Why are you turning your Commander away from me?"

Another voice, calm yet warm, like a summer breeze. "Come now, CZ2000, behave yourself. We haven't the time for petty squabbles."

"But Commander!"

"The gentleman can't launch his operation without our cargo. Help Type-80 unload it, please. I will speak to the gentleman about Skorpion's rudeness on your behalf."

A brief silence before CZ2000 spoke again, "O-okay, Commander."

"That's a good girl."

FNC brushed past. Pitter-patters behind, two sets of footsteps. A soft thud. "Hey, Fleur!" The Commander greeted.

"Commander, it's good to see you." MG4. She sounded glad, yet forlorn, like a lonely child.

...more affectionate than a lonely child.

"It's only been two days," the other Commander replied softly. MG4, or Fleur, purred softly. "Let's catch up later. I still have business with Skorpion's Commander. Oh, there you are, Mary."

"Nivy, Nivy. Where's my chocolate?"

"Get MG4 away!" Skorpion sounded alarmed. "Cetin can't see the yellow eyes!"

"_Orange_!" CZ2000's indignant shout, from the direction of the rear hatch.

The other Commander, ignoring the outburst, inquired calmly, "Is there any particular reason your commander cannot see yellow eyes?"

"Post-traumatic stress disorder, Sir," replied Lev, after clearing his throat. "He has a past with these 'yellow eyes', I believe."

"You _believe_?"

Another moment of silence. He was likely mulling over the revelation. "Fleur, please leave us for a moment. I will catch up with you later."

Another set of pitter-patters, fading towards the helo's rear hatch.

"Nivy." FNC. "What about my chocolate?" she pleaded.

"Later, Mary. We'll talk later."

"...Okay."

FNC brushed past us. Slumped shoulders, heading towards the ammo crates.

"Now then. Can I speak to your Commander, face to face?"

Skorpion craned her neck towards the direction of the rear hatch, then shrugged. Her grip slackened, her fingers peeled from the true wrist. "O-okay."

The spine straightened, the flattened dune regrew. The other Commander leaned against a black cane. With a casual smile, he showed me his right hand and greeted, "Rear Commander Klein Washington."

A loud bang from behind the helo. Ringing jeers from the fuselage. "Crabby, I thought you said you can handle this?"

Not MG4, not CZ2000, must be Type-80.

"It's not my fault it jammed!"

"Is something the matter?"

Klein's right hand hung awkwardly.

"...My right is false. It cannot feel."

His gaze fell on the false arm briefly. A crinkle by his lips, a hint of a smirk. "Shaking with the left is a sign of distrust but, considering your circumstances…"

He grimaced. His right leg sagged alarmingly. He righted himself, his left firmly gripped by the true hand.

A warm, friendly smile.

"... I'm making an exception. You are?"

"...Cetin Yilmaz."

Fleur, CZ2000 and a doll with spectacles, Type-80, peeked from behind the helo's rear hatch.

Commander Washington grunted as he slid his cane into his right hand. Another grunt, he released his grip and righted himself. The smile returned, "My friends call me Nivy. I will be honoured if you would be counted amongst them."

"...I see."

**0730**

"M4 to Command."

The blue blips emerged from the midpoint between the north and north-eastern corners of the AO.

No red blips had appeared to meet them.

"We have arrived at Epsilon."

Sudaev and Ingram dummies, two of each, slid behind the traffic barricades.

Red blips entered their visual cones. Three Scouts, followed by another two, hovered past them, towards the east.

"Encountered enemy patrols. Five Scouts. Letting them pass."

As soon as the scouts winked out of the dummies' visual range, the dummies vaulted over the barricade. The mainframes followed quickly after. Then, HK416's, G11's and MG5's, the rest of Team HK416, entered the feed and hurried after them.

Following behind was Team SVD, then Team M4A1.

"We are continuing towards our objective."

Team HK416's blips took the right fork, closely followed by the other two Echelons.

Holographic projection dimmed. Wavering sunlight invaded the tent. "Frontline duty hasn't lessened Mary's appetite," said Commander Washington, with a gleeful chuckle.

The true fingers twitched. Polymer at the last three digits, metal pressing against the first.

"If anything, it made her ravenous."

Lev's grip tightly wound around the wrist. The pistol sat on the Tactical Map.

"Was it necessary to attack Skorpion?"

Washington's friendly smile dimmed. "I don't think forehead flicks count as an attack." He sighed. "You should discipline your T-Dolls better, Cetin."

He tapped on his command tablet.

"Besides, she _did_ tackle Fleur two days ago."

The blue blips approached the first two concrete blocks, they would soon enter the East District. The two buildings, five stories high, emerged in the feed like rising pylons.

"She's a delicate girl, as you have noticed."

"About your second helo, just arrived…"

"It brought the Carcano sisters…" Washington made another series of taps. "...and additional dummies." He glanced over his tablet. "You know about the Carcano sisters, right?"

The name didn't ring a bell.

Noticing my ignorance, he grinned and added, "I knew Ceno was lying when she claimed they were world-famous."

"I've only joined Grifon a week ago."

His grin faded slightly, then took on a sly quality, "With all the waves you are making, it's easy to forget you are a rookie."

A weight in the lungs. A sigh. "I never asked for this."

He smirked. There was a hint of ruefulness behind the lopsided grin. "Nobody asked for a Sangvis hazing, yet…" He nudged his stick against his bad foot. "...here we are."

He returned his attention to his tablet. Blue blips spread out, a cluster in the front of the formation, a second cluster in the middle, the last at the rear. Team HK416, the frontmost group, kept its distance from the red blips, not too far as to lose sight of their quarries, not too close to be detected. Team SVD followed close behind, their rear guarded by Team M4A1.

"...About these sisters…"

Washington lifted his eyes away from his device for a moment.

"Carcano M1891 and Carcano M91/38. Cano and Ceno. Cano's the pink one, Ceno's the purple one. They are snipers."

He made several taps. "Do pardon their rudeness. I insisted they get to their assigned stations right away."

"...Are these the names you gave them?"

"They called themselves that."

"M4 to Command, we have arrived at Delta Five without incident."

Ingrams and Sudaevs filed through the gap between razor-wire fences and took cover behind a pair of pockmarked armoured vehicles. One of the Ingrams shot a glance at the corpse, clad in body armour, tangled upon the razor wire.

Washington diverted his attention towards the Tactical Map. "How are your echelons?"

"Keeping low."

"We are keeping pace with the Sangvis Scouts," M4 interrupted the conversation. "Avoiding confrontation for now."

Ingram, keeping watch from behind the disabled armoured vehicle, tsked aside. She looked antsy and tensed, tapping her foot constantly.

"Despite her distaste."

Washington cracked a grin.

One red blip, two, all five winked out. Ingrams sprung to the next set of cover behind the vehicle, through the gap in the blockade, followed by Sudaevs. 416, G11, MG5 and their dummies took their place. G11 poked at the tangled corpse, but was quickly met with a swift slap from 416. Receiving an all-clear from Ingram and Sudaev via the Zenner, they then filed through the gap and into an open yard nestled amongst the L-shaped apartments.

Corpses, all clad in the same body armour as the tangled one, littered the yard. Mouldy vest, sun-bleached helmets, it was clear they had been abandoned to the elements for many months. One of them, propped against the wheels of another armoured vehicle, had a faded SF logo painted on his chest.

"Sangvis Ferri Security," Washington remarked, frowning grimly. "Their dolls turned on them. Never stood a chance."

Sten of Team SVD cautiously stepped around another corpse which blocked the road.

"Seems you have gotten them to practice radio discipline," Washington noted.

A shrug. "Credit belongs to HK416 and MG5."

Upon sensing Sturmgewehr and Nagant's arrival, Sten looked towards them, pointed at the corpse and said something. Her gestures were that of confusion. After a brief exchange, Nagant leaned towards the cadaver for a closer examination. She sprung back. The headphones gave voice to her surprise.

"Nagant to all! The corpses here are riddled with bullet holes! Do we have other Grifon dolls in the area?"

SVD, who was scanning the blocks flanking her echelon, dropped her gun, strode towards Nagant and slapped the back of her head. "Team SVD to all, ignore the silly Babushka." She looked at Nagant, her posture suggesting a glare. SV-98 peered her eye away from her scope to look at her team Leader.

"Nagant, Sten, Sturmgewehr, leave the bodies and move on."

SVD gave one more look to the blocks, then nodded at SV-98.

Team SVD exited the yard, and Team M4 took their place. Papasha and BAR looked uncomfortable to be among the dead. Papasha looked at FAL; FAL patted her shoulder. They shared nods and continued on. BAR, seeing this, remarked aloud, "Hey, FAL! What about me? Hey!"

She hurried after them as they continued to the next block.

"They must have seen bullet holes on the remains of Sangvis Ferri Security," Washington commented, still wearing a grim expression.

"Not burns?"

He shook his head. "No. Not burns. Only the newest generation of Sangvis T-Dolls use handheld energy weapons, and we are fighting them." He regarded the armour-clad corpse. "The dolls assigned to Sangvis Ferri Security are of the previous gen."

"...I see."

The columns of armoured vehicles soon gave way to a deserted street. Private carriages left rusting, paint peeling. Mouldy, cracking luggage strewn along the empty sidewalks. Some of the doors were ajar, creaking in the wind.

Just ahead, the towering antennas of the telecoms building loomed.

**0820**

SVD knelt behind the front of a ramshackle bus, SV-98 atop a car's hood, watching the telecoms building through their scopes.

"M4 to Command, humanoid figures behind the windows. Jaegers...I think. We don't have a count on their numbers, yet."

"Ingram to all." Two Ingrams and two Sudaevs distributed between curbs and alleys. A low giggle lurked under Ingram's tone, interspersed between her phrases. Five red blips entered Team HK416's visual cones, gliding towards them. "The Scouts are coming back."

The giggle was of predatory anticipation.

"M4 to all Echelons, clear the street and stay in cover. Let them pass."

The Scouts glided towards them at the pace of a walking T-Doll, weaving through the gaps between three armoured vehicles and two machine-gun positions. The T-Dolls were stiff, tensed, like tightly wound springs, as they awaited the machines' inevitable arrival.

One of them rose suddenly over the curb, which had hidden Ingram. It stopped, shuddered and turned towards the submachine-gunner. Ingram pounced without delay and drove her dagger deep between its garnet visor and obsidian carapace.

Jaeger fire struck Ingram and the Scout, disintegrating their heads. It came from one of the windows on the fifth story of the telecoms building.

Muzzles exploded, catching the Scouts in their crossfire.

"M4 to all Echelons! Keep to the plan!"

Smoke erupted from where the other two Ingrams and three Sudaevs hid. Team M4 and Team SVD advanced under its cover. They split into uneven halves. One took the left, the other, the right. SVD's and SV-98's slammed their shoulders against the armoured vehicles, along with the Nagants. A Nagant pointed towards a window, an SVD took the shot.

Team M4A1's feed tailed M4's mainframe unit into the right apartment, after Papasha, FMG-9, BAR and FAL. The corridor was littered with detritus and limp Sangvis carcasses. They swiftly ascended the stairs towards the highest floor, entered the frontmost room and took their positions. BAR mounted her gun and fired upon the first sign of Jaeger fire.

Upon hearing the BARs' fire, Team SVD disengaged and rushed into the apartments. Five minutes passed between their repositioning and the first crack of rifle fire.

The two Ingrams lobbed their smoke grenades towards the gaps between the armoured vehicles and machine-gun nests. Once the plumes reached sufficient volume, Team HK416 charged towards the door.

G11 stumbled towards 416. "Gewehr-Elf!" shouted 416 as she slowed slightly. "Schnell!"

Gunfire shattered the glass double-door, producing a gap for Ingram's grenades to soar through. Light gave way to darkness. The blast from a Vespid's weapon blinded the feed.

A loud crack of crumbling concrete and shattered glass. 416's grenade had dislodged five Vespids from their perches on the mezzanine. G11's dummies opened fire without delay, tearing through the remaining Vespids' flimsy covers, cutting them down.

Concrete and glass rained upon the Guard phalanx barring their progress. MG5, G11 and their dummies turned their weapons towards them. Muzzles flared, bullets sparked on the dented shields. The Guards fired their pistols in retaliation. The phalanx held for a minute before showing signs of buckling.

416 fired three shots. Glimmers of shattered shards, her bullets had found their mark. The Guard crumpled, her shield fell forward. The rest of the formation moved to close the gap.

Too late. Sudaev's grenade found its way through and exploded in their midst.

"M4 to Team HK416, the Jaegers have disengaged. I think they have repositioned themselves along the corridors on the fifth floor."

"Team HK416 to M4," replied the T-Doll as she ran for the stairways, glancing at the directory sign along the way, "Acknowledged. Over."

The feed rocked to the explosion and the shower of concrete, steel and coolant. MG5s kept their triggers pulled, covering the slow advance of their teammates. On the level above, a Guard shoved Ingram back, then jabbed her pistol forward. Sudaev immediately loosed a shower of bullets into the gap the Guard had unwittingly exposed. The mistake cost the Guard her arm.

Ingram surged forth and jammed the shield before emptying a magazine into the Guard. She heaved the corpse over the railing, then advanced on another Guard.

They reached the fifth floor after fifteen minutes. The door slammed open and was immediately shattered by a bright comet.

"Ingram! Grenade!" 416 urged. Ingram patted her deflated pouch and shook her head. "I'm out." She peeked through the doorway and ducked, at a nick of time. She grinned, her eyes gleamed with malice.

"Maybe I should just rush the Jaeger. Can't be that hard to dodge that shot."

"Ingram!" 416 chastised. "Nein!"

Ingram tched aside. "Sarge, you are no fun," she grumbled. "Loosen the stick in that Kraut bum and live a little."

"416…" G11 clutched the silver-haired T-Doll's shoulders. She was panting exhaustedly. "...I'm tired. Carry me."

"NEIN!" 416 snapped. "We are going to lag behind our schedule!"

"Uuueeeeeeeeehhhhh…" G11 whined.

416, frowning, turned her gaze towards the pink-haired T-Doll. "Sudaev!" The aforementioned T-Doll shot up in attention. "Da! Lider!"

"Get a grenade into that corridor!"

"Da!" Sudaev shouted again as she shot back onto her feet. She paced up and down two flights of stairs, shifting her angle each time, then paused for a moment.

"Sudaev!" 416 shouted impatiently. Before she could speak further, Sudaev whipped out her grenade and tugged its cord string. "URAAAA!" she cried as she hurled the explosive.

Lightning and thunder. Dust and smoke. 416 shouted, "Vorrücken! Schnell!"

The feed shuddered. Another grenade had set off around another corner. Ingram and Sudaev charged into the dust cloud, firing as they went. The echelon slaughtered the reeling Jaeger, Rippers and Guard with ease.

Gunfire thundered behind the feed. 416 spun around and fired a grenade over the micro-drone. The feed rocked again as it turned around. More carcasses crumpled. Rippers. Their coolant splattered on the walls and floor. Guards emerged. The G11, 416 and MG5 dummies, one of each, fired upon them, halting their advance.

Another minute, another room or corridor cleared of hostiles.

Fifteen minutes passed. The thundering sound of gunfire and falling cartridges still echoed in the corridor. The echelon waited five minutes, then resumed scouring the hallways.

Another ten minutes passed. G11 tugged at 416's sleeve. "Can I rest now?" she pleaded. 416 shot her a glare before lowering her weapon and pressing on her earpiece.

"Team HK416 to M4, the building is cleared."

"So much for radio discipline," Washington teased.

Dry air rumbled through constricted throat. Hoarse grunts drowned by coursing coffee.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**0950**

SVD and SV-98 mounted their weapons on the window-sill. Nagant paced about among the crumbling furniture. She stopped every so often to examine the carcasses littering the room. After the sixth body, she froze and turned towards the snipers. Her gaze locked with SVD's, and she hurriedly rejoined the snipers.

Sturmgewehr and Sten stood petrified, their guns clutched stiffly in their frozen fingers. They had possessed their dummies, ensuring they were in the right positions, within the perimeter rooms.

MG5's and G11's dummies were scattered around the lobby and the mezzanine. They took positions behind any cover they could find. 416 pointed about and gave instructions. Ingram and Sudaev were absent; they had their own tasks to complete in the basement.

M4, alone in the Communications Room, tapped away at a console. Her teammates had dispersed to cover the corridors, except for FMG-9 and Papasha. FMG-9 had gone to the roof, while Papasha worked on the elevators.

A blue blip winked at the southern edge of the Tactical Map. Siskin 1 had entered the AO. No red blips projected, no reports from Nicholai or Team SVD. The Sangvis were eerily silent.

M4 made another series of taps, each slower than the last. She stopped, straightened herself and bowed her head. Her arms hung by her side, her shoulders slumped forward. She looked defeated.

"Command to M4, how goes your progress?"

"M4 to Command." The soft voice on the headset affirmed the impression. She paused for a moment, then sighed before replying forlornly, "All logs going back three days ago were wiped. AR-15 left nothing to indicate where she might have gone."

"She knew you would come, didn't she?"

M4 nodded in the feed. "She must have come and left in a hurry. Deleting this many logs is unlike her, she's usually meticulous…"

She perked up suddenly.

"M4?"

"Maybe…" she murmured. She slowly, deliberately, crouched to look under the console.

"Command to M4. Come in."

"I think she might have hidden a communicator somewhere..."

She got up, then clambered over the console and peeked behind it. She then stretched her left arm down its back. A few seconds later, she fished out a black object. "...There!" She declared triumphantly. "I found it!" She clasped the object gingerly between her palms and blew on it. "I should have known AR-15 would leave something for me to find," she said softly, with a sigh. She blew at it two more times, then held it close to her lips.

"Team HK416 to Command!" 416 cried urgently. "We are compromised! Hunter has set a…"

Clusters of red blips erupted like angry boils on the Tactical Map. They poured out of the concrete blocks around the East District.

Sangvis bodies stirred. Sten and Sturmgewehr froze, then snapped their weapons towards them and opened fire. Movement at the edges of the feed. Another shot, this time from Nagant. Sten turned around slowly, her form getting tenser by the second. She realised they were surrounded by the restless dead.

"Siskin 1 to Command! Sangvis flooding out into the street!"

Red clusters materialised inside the telecom building, overpowering the blue.

"FAL to M4! Enemies attacking from all corners! They are the bodies we left for dead!"

"BAR to M4! I'm surrounded everywhere!"

"_Chambers One to Three have gone dark."_

Heart...pounding against ribcage. Throat clenched...clogged by rushing dust.

"Siskin 1 to Command, the Sangvis are closing towards Delta Three…"

G11s and MG5s fired down the lobby. Some bodies fell still, others sundered. The feed shook. Debris and smoke from the rooms behind them. Muzzle flares from 416 and her dummies.

Door shattered, Ripper grappling Sturmgewehr. Sten took aim. Nagant fired seven shots. Sturngewehr shook off the grappler. Lifted her rifle. Fell. Sten shouted. She lunged, tossed her grenade. Feed shook. Dust settled. She had seized Sturmgewehr and dragged her away.

"Siskin 1 to Command! Jaegers on the roof! MG4's trying to clear them out but…"

"FAL to M4! I can't raise FMG-9! M4!?"

"_That earthquake must have taken out Chambers One to Three."_

Sharp pain. Knives in the shoulder. Sternum buckling to the hammering heart.

"Cetin!"

Washington's cane...dug into the ribs. His palm firm on the true shoulder, shaking lightly.

"Cetin! You alright?"

"_Captain! How can you be so calm? Amir's down in those tunnels!" Suleiman cried._

"Ingram to all! That intact Ripper I told Sarge about? I had put her down, but now, heh, they got us surrounded and pinned. I'm out of ammo."

"_Where did Grifon even acquire explosives of this much yield?"_

Eye burning. Trembling in the true arm. Knives in the chest, knives in the phantom limbs.

"M4 to Command...Commander…"

_Cough out the phlegm. Speak._

"Cetin! That's Fleur in there! Say something!"

_Speak, damn you!_

_Command!_

"Command to All. Sitrep."

The throat burned. Lungs laboured to stir up the stagnant wind.

Radio silence.

Sturmgewehr and Sten flanked the doorway. Dust poured through the threshold.

"Team SVD to Command. We have stabilised the situation in our room. Lost contact with all our dummies."

A pause.

"I'm busy right now. A herd of rabbits trying to storm this den."

Three shots in rapid succession. "Sturmgewehr! Can you speak?"

Sturmgewehr retched in Sten's arms. "Auxiliary power core and a heat exchanger...hit...but I can still fight."

Another rifle crack, from SV-98 this time. Sten shot at another Sangvis as soon as she appeared. Yet another emerged, swiftly gunned down by Sturmgewehr.

SVD paused for a moment, then spoke again. "Cover us."

Three MG5s and two G11s turned their weapons towards the Sangvis advancing through the gate. Three 416s and a single G11 fired into the doorway behind them.

"Team HK416 to Command, we are still holding position, but we may need to withdraw." G11 ceased firing. She then fiddled about with the front of her gun, then resumed firing. 416 glanced at her, then reported, "We are running out of ammunition…"

"Ingram to All. Still pinned down here! Hey, Sarge! Can I go wild already? Sudaev's clipped, you know?"

Papasha's frantic cry answered her statement. "Sudaev's injured? Sudaev! Say something!"

"I'm fine, Sestra," Sudaev replied calmly, though her voice carried a hint of pain.

"Not sure about this van, though," Ingram injected, with a low hyena-like giggle. "Time to let loose the dogs of war?"

"M4 to Command…" M4 chimed from the communications room. Smoke wafted from her rifle's barrel. Three Rippers slumped against the walls. "FAL and the rest have retreated into the closest rooms. They are safe but..."

"_Who...is left? Anyone left...unaccounted for...?"_

M4 checked her weapon. "...we lost all our dummies."

"...What about Papasha and FMG-9?"

She replaced her magazine.

"Papasha's safe in the elevator shaft. FMG-9…"

A pause. She hesitated, sighed, then pulled back the charging handle. "I couldn't raise her."

"...I see."

She repositioned by the door. Paused. Glanced at her rifle. "...Commander…" She spoke furtively, "I have established communications with AR-15. M4 Sopmod II is with her. She gave me her rendezvous coordinate but…"

A pulse on the Tactical Map. Satellite hamlet, designated Omega, northwest of Novum Sambir, across the river. Large numbers of red blips clusters massing along the westernmost street, named Alpha, from crossroad to crossroad, Alpha One to Alpha Two.

Prowlers, Scouts, Dinergates...numbering in the hundreds and rising. They pulled away from the patrols and garrisons scattered around the Central District. Hunter meant to unleash them upon AR-15 and M4 Sopmod II.

"Hunter tapped into your communications."

M4 withdrew her head just as energy bolts sparked against the door's frame. "I think so, Commander," she replied softly. "The Sangvis will reach them in twenty minutes." She paused, looked at her rifle, then poked her gun out of the door and pulled the trigger.

Two of the MG5 dummies had gone silent. Only the mainframe was still fighting. 416 had returned her attention to the lobby. Sten ducked away from the door as energy bolts impacted the wall opposite of her. Sturmgewehr laid on furniture rubble, with her rifle aimed at the door. Muzzle flashes from the wall windows, the snipers were doing their best to thin the numbers of the reinforcing Sangvis.

Dull pain in the true palm; the fingernails had dug deep. Dripping between the fingers; the thermos cap had crumpled under the grip of the false hand. Washington looked pale with worry.

"_Cetin, we aren't going anywhere."_

_...Captain._

"_Your command?"_

"...Command to All. Ammo count."

"Plenty flushed over here, Kommandir," SVD chimed. "Sturmgewehr, ten mags, eight grenades. Sten, twenty mags, ten grenades. Nagant, thirty-five rounds, SV-98, eight mags, myself, eight mags."

"Team M4 to Command. BAR, five mags, FAL, eight mags, six grenades, Papasha, ten mags, myself...five mags. We can recover more if we can reach our dummies."

"Team HK416 to Command. MG5, two...one hundred thirty rounds. G11 and dummies, three mags each. My dummies and I, four mags each, two grenades each. Sudaev, three mags, two grenades. Ingram's empty."

"MG5, how long can you continue fighting?"

"With controlled burst, maybe three more minutes."

"I see. Command to Papasha."

"Kommandir?"

"Elevators running?"

"Da, Kommandir, I got one elevator running, still working on a rappelling route in the second shaft."

"Understood. Command to Siskin 1, how quickly can you get to Omega?"

"Siskin 1 to Command," Nicholai replied calmly, "Twenty minutes, at best speed."

"Command to Siskin 1, get to Omega, rescue the VIPs, then return to Delta Three."

"...Understood. Moving out now."

"Command to Team M4. Secure the elevator lobby, then clear out your floor. Team SVD, have Sten work with Team M4."

SVD fired a shot, then replied. "Understood. Hey, Sten! Don't lose to Sudaev, okay?"

Sten nodded. "M4, I'm in your care."

"Command to Sudaev, your position and enemy numbers?"

M4 peeked out of the door and fired three bursts.

"What?" Ingram exclaimed. "You are asking Sudaev? I can…"

A loud wooden shatter. M4 hurried out of the door and fired down the corridor. Two Rippers fell before they could fire upon FAL. FAL withdrew her kukri from a Ripper's neck, then snapped her rifle towards another wave of advancing Rippers.

"Command to Sudaev." The throat strained against the sudden gale. "Answer. Please."

"Da, Kommandir! We are behind the van between the ramp and the electric room! Fifteen Sangvis are pinning us down, and there are at least thirty more on the upper levels!"

Three of the Rippers were caught by a fragmentation grenade. Sten rolled out and mag-dumped into the reeling Sangvis. M4, FAL and BAR hurried towards Sten, firing at any Sangvis emerging from the rooms to flank her.

"I could have given you this information, Cetin!" Ingram stated angrily.

"Command to Ingram. Quiet."

Ingram swore crassly.

"Command to Sudaev, have you planted all the charges?"

"Only one pillar, Kommandir."

"Understood. 416, are you listening?"

"Team HK416 to Command, Zenner's kept me apprised of the situation. Your orders?"

FAL rummaged through the packs of the dummy carcasses. M4, BAR and Sten covered for her. Another Ripper turned the corner behind them, attempting to flank. She flinched, her shots struck the ceiling. Fel had pounced on her neck. FAL lifted her rifle and opened fire.

"416 and G11, send one dummy down to the basement via the stairs and relieve Sudaev and Ingram. Rest of Team HK416, withdraw to the fifth floor via the elevator once M4 gives the go-ahead. Do you copy, M4?"

M4 slung her pack over her shoulders.

"M4 to Command. Yes, I copy. I will signal the retreat once the elevator is secured."

She reloaded and advanced with her teammates.

"Good. Sudaev, give Ingram your grenades."

"Finally! Something to do!"

A Ripper appeared at the door into SVD's room. Sturmgewehr eliminated her before she could menace the snipers.

"Ingram, Sudaev, you are to coordinate your actions with 416 and G11. As soon as 416 and G11 open fire upon the enemy, you will rush out and support them. Ingram will handle the grenadier work. Sudaev, you keep shooting. Clear out the enemy as much as you can, get the remaining charges planted and retreat to the fifth floor via the elevator. Papasha."

"Da. Kommandir?"

"Cut off floors two to four, basements one and two, then the first floor once Team HK416 withdraw. After Sudaev, Ingram, 416 and G11 vacated the basement, disable all elevator access."

"Ura."

"After everyone regroups on the fifth floor, vacate the shaft and cut the cables. Command to All, after Papasha disables the elevators, lock down the stairs and hold out until Siskin 1 returns."

"Team HK416 to Command."

Lobby littered with Sangvis corpses. 416, G11 and their dummies continued unloading into the advancing Sangvis horde from the mezzanine. MG5's gunfire had become sporadic.

"MG5's down to twenty rounds. We need to evacuate in two minutes."

"Understood. Command to M4, do you copy?"

"M4 to Command."

M4, Sten and BAR were firing down the hallway at a Guard phalanx. One of the shields had sagged, though the Guard did not fall.

"Copy. Elevator lobby is not clear. The phalanx isn't buckling. I think the Guards are using a double-row formation. Also…"

Gunfire flashes from outside the feed's edge.

"They are pressuring our flank."

"Tell the Commander I want double pay for this!" FAL cried from out of view. "I want to go shopping after this is over!"

Ignored her. Spoke to M4. "Command to M4, copy. Command to Team HK416, ammo count."

"Team HK416 to Command." 416 had ejected an empty mag. "G11, our dummies and I are down to two magazines each. My dummy and I still have two grenades each. MG5 is down to five…"

MG5's barrel fell silent. She jostled the weapon twice, but nothing came out of the effort.

"...she's out," 416 reported grimly.

"Understood. Get to the elevator now. You are to assist Team M4A1 in clearing the elevator lobby."

"Team HK416 to Command…" another burst fire from the T-Doll. "Understood. Moving now…MG5!"

MG5 had collapsed behind cover beside 416's. Down the ledge, her dummies seized up. "G11! Cover me! MG5!"

Before 416 could leave her cover, MG5 held out her hand. "Kamerad 416…" she wheezed. "I'm...controlling my dummies...directly. Buy time...Surge in processor load..."

Her dummies slumped forward.

"I can...buy two minutes...two minutes to...failsafe trigger...shut...down."

"Dummkopf!" 416 cried. "You risk burning out your processor!"

MG5's dummies mechanically got up. One was struck in the shoulder but did not falter. They flipped their weapons around, held them by their barrels, and lurched towards the Ripper tide.

"...I know. I'm entering...Level II consciousness. Lighten the...processor load...Scrape...three more minutes. Take my mainframe…"

The MG5 dummies charged into the crowd. Wielding their emptied guns like bludgeons, they wailed at the enemy. Vespids shot at them, tearing off chunks of artificial flesh. One of the dummies, spilling coolant all over the dusty floor. She lurched forward, then broke into a sprint. A Ripper sprawled behind her, felled by G11. The dummy then swung her empty gun at the Vespid who had shot her. The Vespid's head bent at an unnatural angle.

"...Understood," 416 replied with a curt nod.

Three shots missed 416 by a hair as she lunged towards the fading MG5. G11 had gunned down the offending Vespids before they could steady their aim. 416 threw the machine-gunner over her shoulder. "G11! We are evacuating! Schnell!"

"Aaaaah...no fair," G11 whined, as she replaced one of the two empty magazines on the front of her gun. They both leapt off the ledge onto the lobby below. G11 and HK416 dummies, who had followed suit, fired upon the enemy, covering the MG5 dummies. 416, G11 and MG5 disappeared under the ledge. Their dummies followed them, backing away slowly out of view.

The feed descended. Ringing bullets shot past the micro-drone as it sped past the 416 and G11 dummies. A soft ding, the door slid open. 416 dropped the comatose MG5 on the metal door. G11 kept the door open, letting their dummies in. The door closed, and faint rhymeless music droned.

"Team HK416 to M4 and Command. We are in the elevator, on the way to the fifth floor."

"M4 to Team HK416." M4 punctured another Guard's visor. "Understood. Be advised, the Sangvis on this floor and the floors below have rallied at the elevator lobby. You may be attacked as soon as you arrive."

416 propped the unconscious MG5 against the steel wall. "Team HK416 to M4. Acknowledged," she said as she slid her grenade into her underslung launcher. "G11, take position beside the door…" she pointed towards the corner to her left, "...and put your dummy at the back corner beside me. Schnell!"

G11 hurried towards her indicated position, at the corner by the door in front of 416, though her dummy reacted faster to 416's instruction.

"We have arrived on the third floor. ETA to the fifth floor, thirty seconds." 416 slapped her rifle. "G11, you and your dummy are down to half a mag each. Only shoot at anything you can certainly hit."

G11 glanced at her weapon, then nodded frantically.

A flash of a smile, quickly replaced with a frown. 416 looked towards the door sternly. "Get ready."

"Command to Papasha, on which floor are you on?"

"Papasha to Kommandir. I'm suspended over the third floor. I've just isolated the first floor from the elevator."

"Command to Papasha. Good work. Wait below the fifth floor. I need a grenade in the Sangvis' midst as soon as they engage Team HK416."

"Papasha to Kommandir. Already on my way. Ura."

Another soft ding. Iridescent flashes filled the feed. They sparked off the opposite side of the elevator car, filling the feed with wispy grey smoke. Three volleys, silence, two Rippers ingressed into the elevator. Two bursts from HK416 and G11. The Rippers fell. 416 and G11's dummies then fired at the unseen enemies beyond the door.

"Command to Papasha. Are you in position?"

A bang, followed by another. Cloud of dust issued from behind the phalanx. "Uraaaaa!" Papasha shouted. Her battle cry was followed by an unmistakable 'brrrrt'. The two HK416s made their egress under G11s' covering fire. They launched their grenades, mainframe first, then dummy. The phalanx buckled, gaps exposed. Sten's grenade bounced off the ceiling and landed among the reeling Guards. M4, BAR and Sten then advanced, firing upon the scattered Sangvis as they went.

Two minutes passed. BAR pulled back her charging handle and fired into the stairway exit.

"M4A1 to Team SVD, I need Sturmgewehr to assist in covering the stairs."

SVD, eye glued to her scope, spoke, "Hey, Svet. Take Sturmgewehr to the elevator lobby."

SV-98 swivelled her gun slightly to her right. A shot fired, but her muzzle did not flare. SV-98 paused for a moment before replying irritably, "What did I say about calling me 'Svet'?".

SVD fired another shot, then replied with an unseen smirk, "Why not? The name's cute. I like it."

SV-98, with a slight grumble, added, "We still have targets down there."

"Save your bullets, Svet," SVD replied. "They are meant for wolves. Besides, Nagant's too small to help."

"Hey!" Nagant barked. "Be polite to your Babushka!"

"I can go myself…" Sturmgewehr lifted herself with a grunt. She stumbled. Her shoulders shuddered. She clutched her chest.

"Don't stress yourself. You are going to overheat faster with only one working heat exchanger," SVD advised.

"Are you sure you can handle this?" SV-98 inquired, as she turned her gun slightly to the left. Once again, SVD took the shot. "Just a rabbit hunt," SVD replied. "Don't keep the second Kommandir waiting. I'll tell you if I see Hunter."

SV-98 lifted her eye off her scope. She shook her head as she got up. Rifle slung over her shoulder, she walked up to Sturmgewehr and threw her left arm over her shoulder. "Danke," said Sturmgewehr appreciatively as SV-98 helped her out of the door.

"Team HK416 to Command," 416 announced as she laid MG5's unconscious form against the wall close to the empty elevator shaft. "Sudaev had planted three charges before she was pinned by the Sangvis from the upper levels. Our dummies are down. Ingram incapacitated. We are heading down there."

"Command to Team HK416. Hold your position. Command to Team M4A1, ammo count."

"Team M4A1 to Command," M4 started. "We have salvaged ammunition from our dummies. FAL, six magazines, twelve grenades, BAR, ten magazines, Papasha, two magazines, myself, four magazines. I'm taking FAL with me to basement three to relieve Sudaev and Ingram."

"Command to Team M4A1. Understood. Proceed at best speed."

"Turn that frown around, ma chérie. Don't mar that pretty face," FAL said to 416, her voice sweet yet venomous like a snake's. 416 shot her a fearsome glare in response. G11 shuddered, perhaps out of terror. FAL smugly added, "_We_ will return your demoiselles en détresse, safe and sound."

Before 416 could reply, FAL followed M4 to the elevator shaft and leapt after her. The feed followed their rapid descent along the cable.

"Command to Papasha, send the elevator down to basement three."

"Da, Kommandir."

M4 and FAL arrived at the roof of an elevator car a fraction of a minute later. M4 pried open the elevator's roof hatch. The two T-Dolls then dropped down into the elevator car. M4 tore open the door. FAL charged out, launching her grenades along the way. Broken bodies flung, gunfire drowned by howling vehicle alarms.

M4 rushed out towards Sudaev, firing her gun as she went. She felled three Vespids as they attempted to fill the spots vacated by FAL's grenades. The Vespids attempted to retaliate and FAL gunned them down swiftly.

The black-haired T-Doll leapt over a pile of fallen Sangvis, then slammed her shoulder against the car, beside Ingram and Sudaev. She froze upon seeing Ingram's condition.

"Heh, M4," Ingram said with a low, pained chuckle. She still functioned, despite being on death's door. "Late to the party."

"Zatknis, idiot Ingram!" Sudaev chided. She smacked Ingram's forehead. She had been trying to tape Ingram's severed right arm together. "We take our eyes off you for just a minute and look at what happened!"

"Can you still complete your task?" M4 inquired. Sudaev nodded furiously. "We'll take care of Ingram. Go!"

M4 leaned out of cover and joined her fire with FAL's. Sudaev kept low and dashed towards the pillar to her right. The Vespids fired three shots at FAL. One shattered the black car's window, the second punctured its engine block, the third grazed FAL's shoulder.

"FAL!" M4 shouted in alarm. FAL gritted her teeth and returned fire.

Sudaev finished planting the explosive and sprinted to the pillar directly behind her. She swung around behind the concrete block and repeated the process. Deciding that Sudaev was safe from enemy fire, M4 hoisted Ingram onto her shoulder and effected her withdrawal to the next set of cover, closest to Sudaev. FAL remained where she was, picking off any Vespid trying to aim at M4. She then retreated under M4's covering fire.

Movement behind the stairway exit.

"Command to Team M4! Sangvis on your six!"

FAL swung around and launched three grenades. They soared over two rows of vehicles and found their marks. A Vespid aimed at the car's window, directly behind FAL. M4 shot the Vespid and warned, "FAL, your back is exposed!" FAL sidestepped to her left to the nearby concrete outcrop.

Sudaev completed her work and ran for the next set of pillars. FAL swung towards the Sangvis behind her and fired three more grenades, covering M4's retreat. M4, heaving Ingram upon her shoulder, fired three more bursts, eliminating the Rippers egressing from the stairway. Once they reached cover, FAL disengaged and effected her own retreat.

Six minutes passed. The stairway was obstructed by concrete rubble and Sangvis bodies. Gunshots. More Ripper bodies added to that pile. Sudaev planted the last charge, and announced aloud, "We are done!" She then ran for the elevator.

M4 delivered Ingram to the white van left of the elevator. She then turned around and fired upon the advancing Sangvis. Suddenly, she swung her rifle towards the stairway exit and felled more Rippers. FAL stumbled during her retreat. Smoke issued from her jacket, coolant spilt onto the cement floor. She took three more steps before falling onto her knees.

"FAL!" Sudaev shouted as she left the elevator. She ducked just as M4 gunned down two more Rippers emerging from the stairway. FAL swung onto her back and launched her grenades, just as Sudaev seized her and dragged her away. M4 fired two more bursts, then retreated with Ingram in tow.

The Vespids intensified their fire. Several shots made it past the closing elevator door and struck the metal wall.

"Command to Papasha." M4 reloaded her weapon. FAL, grimacing, fumbled as she tried to load her last three grenades. Sudaev, still clutching FAL, looked on with worry. Ingram ejected a dry, pained chuckle. "M4, FAL, Ingram and Sudaev have exfil'ed. Cut basement access to the elevator."

**1105**

Siskin 1's blip disengaged from the red clusters. MG4's feed showed a T-Doll in black having hopped through the side hatch.

"Siskin 1 to Command," Nicholai reported three minutes ago. MG4's feed showed flashes of gunfire, a trail of smoke and a blast. "We sighted only one of the VIPs."

The gunfire staled, then reignited moments later. The muzzle flashes moved away from the Sangvis mob. The T-Doll was retreating towards a clearing, separated from the pavements by a chain-link fence.

Red clusters on the Tactical Map split from the main body and circled around the settlement, forming a crescent trail. Dinergates and Scouts, trying to cut off the T-Doll's escape.

"Command to Siskin 1. Get to the clearing north east of Omega and extract that VIP. Once you are done, disengage. Be advised, Dinergates and Scouts are attempting to encircle the VIP."

The T-Doll fired two more bursts then launched a grenade. She then sprinted and slid under the chain-link, only to be beset by the encircling Sangvis drones immediately.

Thunderous roars from MG4's barrel. Dinergates scattered, Scouts veered away from scything tracer rounds.

A Scout and two more Dinergates cut in the T-Doll's path, too swiftly for MG4 to intercept. The T-Doll simply jumped over them, planted her foot on the Scout and springboarded into the helo's side-hatch.

"Siskin 1 to Command, we have recovered the VIP. Now disen…"

"Commander!" the T-Doll cried, loudly enough to be heard from Nicholai's mic, despite the gunfire. She sounded youthful. Very youthful, comparable to P7's. Excited. Distressed.

"Commander!" she cried again. "This is M4 Sopmod II! Can you hear me?"

"M4 to Siskin 1," M4 started. She was supervising Papasha's stacking of furniture and Sudaev's moulding of her leftover C4. "Connect me to M4 Sopmod II. Sop II! Are you hurt? Where's AR-15?" M4's shoulders were tense, her soft voice anxious.

"AR-15 left! She went to disrupt the Sangvis! She's trying to buy time!"

"Buy time?" M4 said, her voice hushed but astounded. Sudaev and Papasha stopped briefly to gawk, then returned to their tasks. "What for?"

"M4! Commander!" Sop II raised her voice. "Listen! AR-15 said Hunter's sending half her army to…"

"They have already attacked us."

The radio fell silent. M4 stared blankly at Sudaev. Sudaev, standing atop two chairs, stretched a block of C4 against the concrete ceiling.

Fifteen Prowler wreckages on the slope a hundred and fifty meters in front of Lev and Skorpion's position. The PKPs smoked. Skorpion and Lev were slapping each other's palms. CZ2000, who shared the same foxhole, shook her head and continued her vigil.

"Skorpion reported fifteen Prowlers having assaulted our position five minutes ago."

Red clusters massing at the southern side of Novum Sambir, on the roads designated Alpha and Beta. Prowlers, Guards, Jaegers, Vespids, Rippers, Dinergates. There can be no mistaking their intention.

"Hunter is probing our defences."

"Then, M4! Commander! You need to leave quickly! There will be too many of them for us to handle!"

"...Sop II…" M4 muttered slowly. "I can't. I still have three echelons trapped with me in the city."

"While the echelons are still trapped in the AO, I must remain at my station."

"But!"

Coursing wind through the dust-dry throat, silencing Sop II's plea. "We have anticipated this attack, and we have a contingency for it. The upcoming siege is ours to endure. You are on the way to reunite with M4. Concern yourself with what you can do for her. Command to Siskin 1."

"Yes, Boss?" Nicholai chimed.

"ETA to Delta Three?"

"Fifteen minutes. Any word for MG4? The black one couldn't have gotten off the ground if not for her."

"Command to MG4. Keep up the good work. We will need this exemplary performance again within the next fifteen minutes."

The radio fell silent. Sudaev stretched her second block of C4 against the ceiling, parallel to the first one. This was her last block.

"...MG4 to Command," MG4 spoke slowly. "...I'll do my best."

"Team Skorpion to Command!" The headset blurted Skorpion's exclamation. "More Prowlers! Fifteen! Moving along the road!"

"Command to Team Skorpion. They are searching for another angle of attack. Stay vigilant."

"Okay!"

M4 had fallen silent. She barely paid attention to Sudaev and Papasha.

"Hey, Cetin!" Skorpion was filled with bravado. "They found AR-15, right? Are they already on the way back, or are they looking for Hunter?"

FAL and Sturmgewehr, slumped against the wall facing the stairway exit, cracked their heads towards MG5. MG5 was stirring.

"They _are_ hunting Hunter, right?"

Ingram laughed hoarsely. She then choked, gurgled and coughed.

"...Cetin?" Skorpion's bravado was beginning to fade. "You are quiet. Did something happen? Everyone alright?"

Inhaled. Exhaled.

"They are stranded at Delta Three."

Skorpion had fallen quiet.

"We lost FMG-9. Sudaev, lightly wounded. Sturmgewehr and FAL, grievously wounded. Ingram…"

The throat clenched. Dryness on the tongue. The pulse quickened.

Inhaled. Exhaled.

"...mortally wounded."

Silence on the headset. Tap. Tap. Washington's heel and cane tapped under the Tactical Map, against the compacted dirt.

"...Oh." Skorpion broke the rhyme. "...Ingram's still alive, right?" Her voice was weak, bereft of her bluster. Forlorn.

Ingram's right forearm dangled off her elbow. Frayed wires and charred endoskeleton peeked out of her tape-sealed stump, the remains of her right leg. She was clutching her soaked belly with her corroded left hand.

"_Erkan, you look like you swam in blood!" _

She laughed hoarsely again. The crack on her face's left side opened further, exposing the charred bone and teeth underneath.

"_Hey, Cetin. Hey…"_

Inhaled. Exhaled.

"_Sorry. I fucked up."_

"...Barely," the voice croaked.

The headset fell silent.

Sten spoke to Ingram. She uttered three, perhaps four sentences, then frowned and shook her head. Ingram grinned irreverently. Sten puffed her cheek and shoved an MRE pack into Ingram's mouth.

The thunder of light machine guns. Then, silence. Violence sudden but brief, yet lingering, like an Ottoman slap.

"...Oh."

Skorpion's voice was shaking. Her shoulders slumped, her head was bowed. Lev and CZ2000 gazed upon her. They then looked at each other and engaged in silent conversation.

"...Do you wish to speak to her?"

"...Later," she replied softly. "...Later...I mean...We've just killed those fifteen Prowlers trying to sneak up on us. From the south side, I mean."

"...I see."

Sten snapped her gaze towards the stirring MG5. The machine-gunner's cheeks were flushed in deep crimson. Clutching her forehead, she gingerly rose to her feet. G11, who was close by, dropped her MRE pack and backed into 416's belly.

"_Enough tomfoolery! Suleiman! Get off him and carry him to medical!"_

Inhaled. Exhaled.

"_Cetin. The Khorasani will be expecting us. We need to hit them before they can consolidate their defences. We need to hit them tonight!" _

MG5 conversed with 416. 416's arms were folded, her expression stern. Heads nodded and shook.

"_Rest of you, get to the command room! We have work to do!" _

"Cetin?"

Captain's voice silenced. The phantoms dispersed. True knuckles had turned white, the fists were clenched tight. Unclenched them. The false hand lagged behind the true. Deep cuts in the false palm exposed the carbon fibre beneath.

Inhaled. Exhaled.

"What is it, Skorpion?"

"You will save Ingram, Sturmgewehr, Sten, Papasha, Sarge, M4 and the rest, right?"

Furtive. Crestfallen. Daring yet not daring to hope.

Inhaled. Exhaled.

"I will bring them back. You have my word."

"...Promise?"

"Promise."

Washington's brow was knitted. Expression severe, eyes on his tablet, finger tapping on his headset. His heel had fallen still.

The silent wind, blowing through the flap, was suffocating. Tinged with gunsmoke odour. Sweltering, thick with tension and anticipation of the upcoming siege.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**1120**

Siskin 1's blip progressed southwards, following the river. The helo steered clear from the L-shaped blocks flanking it, despite the absence of red blips.

Avoid further surprises. Get into position directly west of Delta Three, then cut through the district at best speed.

Measures to prevent death by a thousand cuts.

Input Delta Three's coordinate. The Tactical Map displayed the telecom building and the surrounding street and tenements, all teeming with Sangvis. Among them, only the Jaegers on the roofs and behind the windows on the floors below could reach Siskin 1. They were of little concern. The roofs were exposed, and the windows provided poor angles on the passing helo.

The real peril laid concealed behind the antenna mast on Delta Three. Ample cover with unobstructed view over the lower roof terrace.

FMG-9 was on that terrace, waiting to receive fresh dummies and ammunition from Siskin 1 when she met her demise. She, and her two dummies, wholly exposed to the concealed Jaegers. Her body was sprawled on the roof, a feast for vultures, if they had an appetite for artificial flesh and blood. Her end must be sudden, like flickering candlelight buffeted by a sudden gale. No chance to react, no warning anything was amiss. One moment, eyes seeking for the distant shimmering, ears opened for that unmistakable chopping in the wind. The next, nothing.

The Ringleader's name is Hunter. Her speciality was written in her name. A tracker, a pursuer…

A trapper.

Minions lying dormant, nestled among the corpses left in AR-15's wake. Hunter knew M4 was coming and had prepared the battleground accordingly.

I hadn't anticipated the trap.

I had been woefully unprepared.

Knives in the stumps. False limbs trembled, fingers contorted. Those which were gone...returned once more. Cuts in the false skin, exposing the steel and polymer beneath. The thermos cap laid crumpled on the left edge of the Tactical Map.

Let the throat endure a little more.

416 and MG5 were having a silent conversation. The frowns, curt nods, 416's flushed cheeks and MG5's dismissive wave illuminated the subject of their discussion. At the edge of the feed, G11 slowly backed away from the duo. Ingram, seeing this, retched in laughter. Sten smacked her forehead in response.

BAR kept her weapon trained at the stairway exit, though she paid it scarce attention. Hunched posture, weight shifting from one leg to another. Sturmgewehr, beside her, shot her a dirty look.

M4, Papasha and Sudaev exited their room. The two submachine-gunners hurriedly rejoined Ingram and Sten, while M4 pressed on her temple and delivered her silent orders. In one of the perimeter rooms, SVD spoke to SV-98 briefly. They exchanged nods and dismounted their rifles. SV-98 tapped on Nagant's shoulder, and the trio exited the chamber.

Inhaled. Exhaled. Tapped the headset. "Command to M4."

M4 froze. The T-Dolls directed their attention towards her.

"Siskin 1 will arrive in five minutes. Be advised, you will be fired upon by the Jaegers as you withdraw."

"Understood, Commander," M4 replied. "We will have a brief window of concealment once we activate the charges. Should be enough to get SVD, BAR and I in position to cover our retreat."

"The Jaegers are entrenched behind cover, while your position is exposed."

M4 fell silent. After a moment of consideration, she spoke, "We still have the ammunition aboard Siskin 1, don't we? Sop II can use the smoke grenades to conceal our withdrawal."

"Helos generate high winds, M4."

Another moment of silence, briefer than the last. "Sop II can use my magazines and Ms. 416's grenades," M4 stated. "If I ignite the charges, I should be able to distract the Jaegers. This should draw attention away from Sop II's insertion at their rear. Then…"

"Are you certain Sop II can handle this task? The number of Jaegers on that ledge is unknown."

"Sop II will not be fighting out in the open. There's plenty of cover. She can do this!" M4 insisted.

"Siskin 1 to Command, ETA one minute," Nicholai chimed. The blue blip had turned a right angle towards Delta Three.

"Yilmaz," Commander Washington spoke from across the Tactical Map. "The Sangvis are massing at the foot of the hill. Jaegers and Guards, with Rippers and Vespids close behind. Dinergates and Scouts on the way."

A sigh exhaled. Finger and thumb flicking outwards, zooming Team M4A1's feed towards the Team Leader.

"M4, look at your micro-drone, in the lens."

"...Commander?" M4 replied, sounding confused. Hesitantly, she looked towards the drone.

"M4, do you vouch for Sop II?"

"Y-yes!" Her dark brown eyes hardened. "Yes, I do! I know she can do this!"

"You will return to base camp with no further casualties. Do I have your word?"

"Yes!" Firm, insistent, free of doubt.

Inhaled. Exhaled.

"Command to All. I'm ceding control over Siskin 1, Team M4A1, Team HK416 and Team SVD to M4A1."

"Commander?" M4 blinked.

"The Sangvis are massing around the perimeter of our base camp. Jaegers and Guards. Dinergates, Scouts, Vespids and Rippers to follow. If you cannot do as you have promised, I will have to divide my attention between two fronts."

She opened, then closed her mouth and pursed her lips. She inhaled, then replied firmly, "I will do my best."

"Again, you will return to base camp with no further casualties. Do I have your word?"

"Yes!" she uttered sharply. "You have my word!"

Inhaled. Exhaled.

Muzzle flashes on MG4's feed. Siskin 1's blip cut through the L-shaped block directly west of Delta Three.

"Detonate the basement charges once you cleared Delta Three. The resultant dust cover should allow for a safe exodus out of the East District."

M4 nodded on her feed. "Understood, Commander."

"Command out."

M4 delivered her silent orders. The black T-Doll in Siskin 1's cabin melted away from the feed.

Tapped on the keypad. Delta Three disappeared from view, replaced by base camp environs.

Red blips massing at the perimeter. Six distinct clusters took on block-like formations; two rows of Guards in front, one row of Jaegers at the back. Vespids and Rippers interspersed between them. Dinergates and Scouts were not counted among their number; they were still approximately two minutes away.

A hill at their rear.

Dust shrouded the elevator lobby; Papasha and Sudaev had detonated their charges. Siskin 1 had swung around the antenna mast, its cabin tilted. Rippers burst through the stairway. Muzzle flashes from Sturmgewehr and FAL. SVD, Papasha, BAR and M4 disappeared into the dust cloud.

A blur on Siskin 1's feed, an explosion at the foot of the antenna mast. Sop II had announced her descent.

Dinergates and Scouts had arrived. The block formations began their ascent.

"Just like in the simulations, Cano." Washington tapped on his tablet. "Aim for the viewing port, prioritise on those Jaegers. Ceno, assist your sister. CZ2000, support Commander Yilmaz's people. Type 80, watch those Dinergates and Scouts. Yes, I know the Guards are moving first. Still leave your one dummy on Buzzard 1."

A hill to the east, at their rear. The UAVs can't pick up low density, loose formations.

"Hey, Cetin!" Skorpion exclaimed. She waved towards the micro-drone. CZ2000 glanced at the submachine-gunner as she poked her rifle through the port under the sandbags.

"Skorpion to Command. The Guards and Jaegers are moving towards us. Thought you should know."

The block formations gradually entered M14's range. The Dinergates and Scouts began their ascent. Lev was still, his eyes trained on the sight.

"Command to Team Skorpion and Aux Guards. M14, target the Guard-Jaeger formation. Exposed Jaegers are your priority targets. Aux Guards, clear the Dinergates. FNC and Tiss, you are on Scouts. Skorpion and MP40, keep the foxholes clear."

Hunter. Hunting tactics.

"Team Skorpion to Command! Lev said 'aye'!"

Dormant minions. Ambush.

"Command to Buzzard 1."

Entrapment, pursuit, ambush...

"Prepare for lift-off. Ceno, Cano, Type 80, you know what to do."

Skorpion drew her incendiary grenade.

Hunter and Executioner. Hawk and hound.

"Skorpion, duck!"

Jaeger fire singed her hair.

"She almost took my head off!" she yawped.

"Do not leave the foxhole and do not get over the sandbags. MP40, the order applies to you too."

"Ja, Kommandant!" MP40 replied calmly.

"Command to Buzzard 1, flank those Jaegers."

Hill at their rear. Hawk and hound. Run the prey out of its burrow. The skies aren't safe. UAVs can't pick up low density, loose formations.

"Washington, call off Buzzard 1."

"Command to Buzzard 1, order rescinded," Washington urged immediately. "Support our forces on the ground. Command to Team Carcano, dummies on Buzzard 1 will take on the same priority as their mainframe units. Make sure nothing gets past those MGs."

He nodded and locked his gaze with the false eyes. Frowning, he folded his arms. "I'm giving you one minute to convince me against lifting the lockdown on our forces."

"Hunter is using the 'Hawk and Hound' strategy."

Washington said nothing.

"She seeks to run our forces out of their sanctuary, to compel them to seek safety in positions of vulnerability."

"You have just told me what we already knew," Washington replied, dissatisfied. He unfolded his arm and tapped his headset.

"All our forces, helos included."

Washington lowered his arm. "Continue," he uttered.

Tapped on the holographic hill facing the Sangvis rear. "Hunter has hidden more Jaegers here to catch our helos in their manoeuvre."

"If that were true, our UAVs would have detected them," Washington replied, sceptically.

"The UAVs cannot detect low density, loose formation automatically."

"The number of Jaegers needed to ground our helos will make them visible to our UAVs," he argued calmly.

"Not if they are dormant, like in Delta Three."

Forests nestled in between hills, interrupting the stretch of plains.

"Hunter may have spent the last few hours trickling handfuls after handfuls of Jaegers to the East Hill, avoiding detection. She may even have them…" false finger glided, then stopped on the blotches to the north, below the hill, "...leapfrog between these forests to more efficiently move them. Once they arrived..." false finger turned towards the hill, "...here, they entered dormancy, allowing them to gather at sufficient numbers under our noses."

"This sounds like a paranoid conjecture but…" he sighed and shook his head. "...fine. I'll see what I can do." He pulled up his sleeve, examined his watch, then smirked. "You have passed the one minute mark, by the way."

"Siskin 1 to Command," the headset sounded. MG4's feed showed a plume of dust and smoke surrounding the helo's cabin. "We have successfully exfiltrated from the AO."

"Command to Siskin 1, any further casualties?"

"BAR's clipped but she's otherwise fine," Nicholai replied.

BAR cried at the far corner of the feed.

"She did lose her gun, though," the pilot added.

Ingram hacked and coughed out a chuckle. Sten smacked her forehead again. Sturmgewehr, frowning deeply, cut away the machine-gunner's right sleeve, put down the scissors and showed her hand to Sten. Sten nodded and handed her an aerosol can. The riflewoman visibly winced as she popped open its cap and dressed BAR's punctured shoulder in foam.

"The black one did good," Nicholai then added.

The aforementioned T-Doll wrapped her arms around M4 and nuzzled up to her. M4 patted M4 Sopmod II's back and spoke softly, all the while glancing at 416, who was watching them critically. M4's stoic facade was visibly cracking.

"Crazy, but good."

"Team Skorpion to Command!" Skorpion kicked aside a perforated Dinergate and reloaded her firearm. The Dinergate landed by CZ2000's ankle, eliciting a scowl from her. "The first rows of Guards are advancing!"

The five red lines lurched forward. Rippers and Vespids quickly filled the gaps the Forward Guards opened. Some of the Rippers were moving ahead of them.

"Command to Team Skorpion and Dayguards. M14, prioritise the advancing Forward Guards. Target viewports and any exposed body part. Guardsmen, staggered fire, cut down any exposed Sangvis as quickly as possible, then concentrate your fire on those Guards. Targets of opportunity, any exposed Sangvis units behind the Forward Guards. Tiss and FNC, provide support."

Lev swivelled his machine gun and fired at the first exposed target he acquired. CZ2000 shot at any Ripper he had missed. Skorpion glanced at them for a moment, then spoke, "Team Skorpion to Command! We are doing our best! What about those Jaegers at the back? They are keeping me and MP40 down!"

Type 80's thundering fire struck one of the Forward Guard formations. One shield fell, three more buckled. Washington nodded, then returned his attention to his tablet.

"Command to Team Skorpion. Still devising a solution. Out. Command to Siskin 1. ETA?"

"Siskin 1 to Command. Ten minutes."

"You are planning to land Team M4A1, Team SVD and Team HK416 on the East Hill, aren't you?" Lungs froze. Washington had interjected.

Inhaled. Exhaled. Breathed.

"Yes."

"I need confirmation. There _is_ a delay between the minions' reactivation and entering active combat, isn't there?"

_Delta Three, telecoms building. _

_One second. _

_Sten and Sturmgewehr froze; the corpses around them stirred. They swung their guns and opened fire. _

_Three seconds._

_Nagant shot a Ripper at the far corner of the feed. Sten was alarmed; more Rippers were rising around them. _

_Five seconds, Nagant, Sturmgewehr and Sten engaged all awakening Sangvis in their room. Some Sangvis had gotten on their feet and were taking aim. _

_Ten seconds._

_A Ripper broke through the door and grappled Sturmgewehr. _

"Approximately five seconds of delay."

"Any spare PKPs? AK-15s?"

"All weapons are with their users."

"What about this one?" Washington tapped on the assault rifle propped against the left side of the Tactical Map.

Skorpion fired upon a Ripper as soon as she cleared the sandbags. She then side-stepped the falling Sangvis submachine-gunner.

Washington cracked a grin as he picked up the assault rifle. "I'm not planning on having Fleur return a widow, Yilmaz." He tapped on his headset, his gaze still fixed upon the false eyes. "Command to Buzzard 2. Andino! Get to the Command Tent on the double!"

Skorpion shot the Ripper on CZ2000's flank. CZ2000 scowled at Skorpion as she slid her rifle back into its port.

Dancing sunlight interrupted the Tactical Map's even glow. Washington shoved the AK-15 into Andino's chest. He then tapped on his headset again. "Command to Team Carcano, Buzzard 1 and Andino. Buzzard 1, disengage and return to the Command Tent. Andino, you take this gun, board Buzzard 1 and take the right hatch. Cano, Ceno, Type 80, move your dummies to the left hatch."

He then said unto Andino. "I hope you kept up with your range sessions. You are going to magdump into those Jaegers."

"You are going to kill my shoulder, Nivy," Andino, his expression stony, replied laconically. He sighed, then added. "I will need more ammo."

"Yilmaz?"

"Truck behind me."

Chopping in the wind. Dried leaves and grass blades snapped against the Tactical Map. Andino nodded and hurriedly departed towards the buffeting wind.

CZ2000 had removed her gun from its port. She joined her fire with Skorpion's, aiding her efforts to keep the Rippers at bay. Lev kept his eyes on the sights, and his trigger pulled.

"Buzzard 1, after Andino gets on board, head north, then swing around to the Sangvis' rear. I want Andino facing those Jaegers," Washington commanded.

He intended to lure out and engage the hidden Sangvis on the opposite hill.

"Type 80, Cano, your dummies will engage the hidden Sangvis on the East Hill as soon as they reveal themselves. Ceno, you spot for your sister."

The forward Guards were halfway between the foxholes and the Sangvis rear formation. Another wave of Rippers surged ahead of the advancing phalanx.

The tent's flap thrashed about with waning intensity. Buzzard 1 had begun its ascent.

The vanguard Rippers' blips continued to wink out. The forward phalanx advanced steadily, undaunted by Type 80s' relentless fire. The snipers and the machine-gunners had managed to cull their numbers, from fifty to twenty-five or thirty per formation. The Vespids and Rippers behind them barely suffered losses; the Guards closed their ranks too quickly for the snipers to inflict further casualties.

The Guard-Jaeger formation at their rear remained unmolested.

Buzzard 1 arrived at the flank of the northernmost Guard-Jaeger formation. Ten seconds...twenty...their numbers remained static.

Red clusters erupted and subsequently winked out on the East Hill. More clusters emerged further south along the hill's slope.

"Command to Buzzard 1!" Washington's gaze locked onto the false eyes. He nodded. "Climb altitude! Andino! Burst fire! Command to Team Carcano, how many Jaegers again?"

The red clusters' rate of emergence overwhelmed Type 80's and Carcano's ability to cull them.

"M4 to Command." Siskin 1 had entered the AO, directly north of the Guard-Jaeger formation. "ETA two minutes."

"Command to M4, do you see these block formations surrounding our base camp?"

"M4 to Command, I see them."

"Engage them whilst the Jaegers on the East Hill remain occupied."

Two minutes. Buzzard 2 decimated one-third of the East Hill Jaegers. The survivors dispersed and hurriedly ascended the slope.

Siskin 1 arrived behind the northernmost Guard-Jaeger formation. 416 leaned over MG4 and launched her grenade. BAR and G11 covered their ears as MG4's casings rattled about in the cabin. Ingram coughed and cackled while Sten grimaced.

Sunlight leaked from the hatch behind M4. SVD poked her rifle out of the crack and fired upon the Jaegers on the Eastern Hill. Nagant hurried to her side, tore open the hatch and started calling targets.

The northernmost block of Guards and Jaegers vanished from the Tactical Map. Siskin 1's blip progressed towards the next formation.

"Sop II! No!" M4 cried out in alarm. MG4's lost her aim, 416 barely caught her rifle's sling. The black T-Doll had leapt off Siskin 1.

Red blips winked out, the survivors scattered. Sop II had fired her grenade at them during her descent. She landed within the dust and debris. Tracer fire. Three Guard blips vanished.

Streaks of light struck the reeling Jaegers and Guards. They came from the next block, all intended for Sop II. "Siskin 1!" M4 cried in panic. "Get to the next Guard-Jaeger formation! Hurry!"

"Team Skorpion to Command!" shouted Skorpion excitedly. She was pointing towards Sop II. "I saw something black fall out of Nicholai's helo! What's going on?"

"Command to Team Skorpion. That is Sop II."

"What?" Skorpion exclaimed her shock. "She's out in the open! We got to help her!"

The third cluster of red blips evaporated from the Tactical Map. Siskin 1 had engaged the next block of Sangvis.

The vanguard Rippers were two hundred meters away from the foxholes. The forward Guards, three hundred meters.

"Stay with your targets. The north is clear of Jaegers."

"What? We are clear?" The Rippers advancing towards the northern line vanished in clusters. "Tell us earlier! MP40! We are clear to burninate them!"

"MP40 to Skorpion. Herr Kommandant said 'north' only."

Buzzard 1 peeled away from the East Hill, having eliminated all its targets. Its blip glided towards the fifth Guard-Jaeger formation.

Sop II, finished with her current opponents, darted towards the fourth Guard-Jaeger formation. Streaks of light on MG4's feed, issued from the said formation. They struck the black blur below, slowing her charge. Sop II's blip remained on the Tactical Map.

"M4 to Sop II!" M4 shouted in panic. "Disengage from combat! Sop II!"

"I'm okay!" Sop II replied with a mirthful giggle. "I have a shield!"

"Disengage, Sop II! That shield can't...!"

The forward Guards suddenly stumbled forward. Smoke rose from their backs; the Vespids had turned on them. They, in turn, were set upon by the accompanying Rippers.

Sop II reached the next Guard-Jaeger formation without issue; they had already turned their guns on each other.

Red blips dissipated rapidly from the Tactical Map.

**1210 **

Chopping vortices dispersed stinging gunsmoke. Dried blades slashed the cheeks. A black figure made her awkward ascend towards the base camp, with swift yet ungainly gait.

Landing gears mulched the grass. The back hatch expelled battered passengers. Pierre and David, bearing stretchers, hurried past M4. The T-Doll stopped three paces away and saluted.

"Commander," she started. "I'm sorry I returned with another casualty."

BAR, clutching her wounded shoulder, ambled past.

"She survived. This is enough."

M4 didn't smile.

A sigh exhaled. "I made this decision. I am at fault."

"M4!" The black figure waved enthusiastically. "M4!" Her hobbling jog broke into a clumsy sprint. At the final stretch, she dropped the warped shield and pounced upon M4. "M4!"

M4 grimaced with discomfort. Her dark brown eyes glimmered with desperation. The black doll had tightened her embrace around her neck. "I did good, right? Right?" The black doll pressed her pale cheek against M4's. Rubbing against M4, she demanded exuberantly, "Praise me!"

"Sop II," M4 squeaked. "Stop. Not in front of the Commander."

Sop II's ruby eyes gleamed.

"He's our Commander?" she exclaimed as she released M4. "M4 Sopmod II!" She saluted, her rigid posture belied her giddiness. Her canines peeked prominently behind her child-like grin. "I thought I was going to have to look for you, just like with all the previous Commanders!"

"Ingram!"

"_Erkan,..."_

"What did you do this time?"

"_...you look like you swam in blood!"_

Skorpion followed Sudaev, Pierre and David out of Siskin 1. Pierre and David were bearing Ingram on a stretcher. "I'm just doing my job, I swear!"

"_Hey, Cetin. Hey…Sorry. I…"_

"OW!"

The false eyes blinked.

"_...I f-..."_

"Idiot Ingram!"

Blinked. Inhaled. Exhaled.

Sudaev had cried shrilly. She gave Ingram another thwack. Ingram winced. "OW! Stop that! I just got away from Sten!"

"You mean _we_ got you away from Sten," Pierre chided, rolling his blue eyes.

Another loud smack. Another sharp cry of pain.

"Sudaev!" Papasha hurried towards them. "Stop! You are injuring yourself more!" she said as she clutched Sudaev's raised arm.

"I am fine, Sestra!" Sudaev replied. She gestured at her right rib. "It's just a graze wound! Besides!" She directed her glare towards the wincing Ingram. "I should smack her three more times! I had to hear her cackle and see her shot the entire time I was wiring the detonators!" Another smack. Ingram yelped. "It was distracting!" Sudaev declared.

The false leg whined.

"Commander? Hey, Commander!" Sop II sounded deflated.

"Hey, Pops."

"_Erkan, you look like you swam in blood!"_

Ingram coughed and cracked an irreverent smirk. She was in grave condition. Sealing foams on her chest. The soaked bandage on her midriff emanated an acrid stench. Multiple burn wounds, one eye dead in its socket...

She tucked her left elbow beneath herself. Her right arm groaned and bent unnaturally. Her torso trembled, her left arm gave way. She fell back onto the stretcher. With a little grumble, she clenched her fist and shoved it forward. "Come on."

"_Hey, Cetin. Hey…"_

"I did good, and you know it."

Muscles tensed. Lips arched downwards.

"What, precisely, did you do?"

"I protected Sudaev, of course!" Ingram shook her fist. "Come on."

"You lied!" Sudaev smacked her forehead again, eliciting another anguished yelp. "You threw _all_ my grenades at those Rippers and then charged at them!" Another loud thwack, another yelp. "I told you about the Vespids, and you still kept stabbing!"

Pulse quickened, mood soured. Raised the true arm. Coiled the middle finger, nestled it under the thumb.

Skorpion winced empathetically. "OWW!" Ingram emitted a sharp cry.

Tucked the true arm behind the waist. The finger throbbed painfully; Ingram's skin barely cushioned the shock.

"Commander! Don't ignore me!" Sop II tugged at the false arm. "Jeez, why did you choose such a weak arm, Commander?" she commented as she wrung the limb. "I can get you a stronger one, like mine!" She pulled up her left sleeve, to reveal a clawed plated arm underneath. Her illusionary ears peaked, her imaginary tail wagged furiously. "Maybe something better than mine! I'm spoiled for choices!"

"You are not salvaging those bodies, Sop II," M4 stated sternly. Sop II whined as she released the false arm. M4, knitting her brow, frowned.

Peeled the false arm from Sop II's slackened grip.

"How does she look?" Query directed at Pierre. He glanced at Ingram and shrugged. "Primary power core's leaking, auxiliary's kaput, power connection to her hindquarters severed, only one working heat exchanger, overstressed coolant pump..." He pointed at Ingram's foam-sealed abdomen. "Ruptured bioreactor..."

He glared at Ingram. "Corrosion could have been worse, considering she _did_ eat something after sustaining the battle damage. She added pressure to the bioreactor! She's lucky the coolant diluted the acid!"

"I was hungry!" Ingram insisted.

"You shut up!" Skorpion chided. She then asked Pierre, "Can you fix her?"

"Fix her?" the tech foreman scoffed. "The body's wrecked! We are going to transfer her neural cloud into another body."

"What?" Ingram broke into a coughing fit. After regaining her breath, she cried, distressed, "What about my scars? It took me two years to get all of these!"

"Should have thought of that before you go charging without smokes or ammo!" Skorpion scolded.

"Yeah!" Sudaev nodded furiously. Ingram yelped and grimaced; Sudaev had smacked her again. "Should have thought of that! I had a mag, you know!"

"At least transfer the scars…" Ingram pleaded.

The true finger coiled and meted out another thwack.

"Ow!" Ingram winced. "Come on!"

The aching appendage coiled again.

"Stop!" Ingram shielded her forehead and cowered. "Stop! Time out!"

Skorpion, Papasha and Sudaev gawked wide-eyed.

The gentle breeze was laden with acrid gunsmoke and chemicals.

The true arm lowered. "Follow Pierre's instructions. No complaints."

Ingram looked aside and pouted. "Yes, Pops…" she sulked.

"Off we go," Pierre grunted. His arms tensed as he lifted the stretcher.

"By the way! Oi! Sop II!" Ingram said suddenly. Sop II perked like a called hound. Ingram was grinning, having regained her lost irreverence. "Don't forget, yeah! Tell me all about how you tear Hunter a new one and rescue AR-15 when I get back!"

"Will do!" Sop II held out a thumbs up. "I'll be marching right into City Hall and tear off Hunter's arm!"

"City Hall?" Skorpion folded her arms and cocked her head. "You know where she is already? Actually…" she then closed her eye, pressed her fingertips on her forehead and showed out her right palm, "Ingram said 'tear Hunter a new one _and_ rescue AR-15'. Are you saying Hunter's got AR-15?"

M4's frowning lips trembled. Her brows were still knitted.

"Explain."

Sop II raised her hand. She gave it a slight shake as she began to speak, "I can…"

"Hunter's holding AR-15 hostage."

Sop II closed her mouth and slowly lowered her hand.

"Hunter contacted M4A1 earlier, on our way back." 416 glared at M4. "She claimed to have AR-15 in her custody and had demanded M4A1's surrender."

"M4 was about to come to that!" Sop II half-shouted, offended.

416 folded her arms. "Then _get _to it, _M4 _Sopmod II," she sneered.

"That is enough."

FAL peeked from behind Buzzard 1's hatch. Washington, among his men and dolls, and with his hands on MG4's shoulders, redirected his attention towards us. Tiss, M14 and Lev froze in their foxholes. SVD, SV-98 and Nagant looked on, armed and with drinks hanging in their grips.

"All wounded, remain aboard Buzzard 1."

Retrieved the command tablet from its pouch, tapped in the coordinates for Beta One.

"The rest,..."

No red blips on the screen.

What was Hunter scheming?

"...gather for briefing."


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**1417**

Tiss cautiously jabbed her rifle at the Vespid sprawled on the dried grass, which remained still. While she was poking the prone Sangvis, she glanced at Skorpion. Skorpion, sensing the look, responded. She said a few words, then turned her attention towards the corpse. She gave it a brief look-over, then shook her head.

Tiss withdrew her rifle and looked at Sten. Sten, vigilant beside MG5 by the wall corner overlooking the street, responded to her. After ending their brief conversation, Sten froze for a moment, then shouted at Tiss.

416 stopped rewiring the door console and glanced at them both. She spoke to them, then returned to her work.

Skorpion pointed at the petrified Guard by the bench and spoke aloud. 416 glanced at the motionless Sangvis, then nodded at Sten. Sten nodded back, drew away from her post and crept towards the Guard. Once she reached it, she tugged at its ponytail.

Sten hopped back; the Guard had toppled. Its pistol fell from under its chin, its coolant poured and pooled on the dirt, grass and cement. 416 looked at the stiffening Sten, then at the fallen Guard, before shaking her head.

Winking blue blip entering from the south. False finger tapped on the headset. "Command to Team HK416. VIP's arriving in five minutes. How much longer?"

416 pressed on her earpiece. The headset crackled. "Three minutes. One-and-a-half if I'm not distracted."

Infernal beeps and flashing green lights, coming from the holo-communicator. The false leg whined, the false fingers tapped on the touchpad. Projector lit up; a stern visage rose from its depths.

"Commander Yilmaz."

Helianthus' stern gaze turned towards Washington. She gave him a curt nod. "Commander Washington." Her gaze met the false eyes. "I'm expecting good news." Tone harsh, yet thick with said expectation.

Inhaled. Exhaled.

Settling dust in the East District. Delta Three's rubble buried FMG-9.

Unconscious Ingram connected to a whirring machine with flashing screens.

FAL stared upwards at the ceiling, her hindquarters stiff and unresponsive.

'How fares Papasha?' Sudaev must have wondered. The thought distracted her from the wound on her ribs.

BAR bemoaned her punctured shoulder and lost machine gun.

The throat groaned, the lungs contracted. "We have taken casualties."

Helianthus' stern visage was unaffected by the ill news. "Yet, the operation is a success, is it not?" Her tone was harsh, uncaring.

Pulse quickened, fists clenched. "Hunter is still at large."

She arched her brow. "Surveillance feeds indicate otherwise."

"We have not encountered Hunter. No body to show, no confirmation of her demise."

"Commander Washington?" she inquired, without breaking eye contact.

"I'm with him," Washington replied calmly. "Having seen Hunter's tactical capability, I'm inclined to agree with his assessment. This absence of Sangvis activity may be a trap. Moreover, we have determined the presence of an unknown third party. I suggest delaying ingress of the construction team."

"Did you ascertain the nature of this third party?"

"No," replied the parched throat.

Helianthus' hard gaze did not waver. She glanced at her pocket watch then closed its cover. "We are adhering to the plan." Voice biting like a cold draft. "You have until fifteen-thirty to confirm Hunter's demise. If you encounter this 'third party' again, you will inform me about it immediately. Helianthus, out."

The holoprojector's light faded; her projection melted away.

"Team M4A1 to Command." Fists unclenched. The blue blip stopped a hundred and fifty metres away from the objective. "We have arrived at Beta One."

"Team HK416 to Command." 416 backed away from the control panel. "Door's unlocked. We are ready to breach."

M4 left Siskin 1 and strode towards the concrete block. Upon reaching the halfway point, she slung her rifle onto her shoulder and raised her hands.

**1240**

"Hunter contacted you using AR-15's communicator?"

Skorpion, her eye fixed upon M4, nibbled on her ration pack. M4 knitted her brow, pursed her lips and nodded. "Yes, Commander. She must have. Our private channel is encrypted. She can only access it through a linked device."

False eyes fell upon the East District. Delta Three...Telecoms Building. Flattened rubble, smothered in still-settling dust. Sudaev did excellent work.

"Yet, she was able to eavesdrop on your conversation in Delta Three."

"Are you certain she doesn't already possess your encryption key?" 416's emerald glare bore into M4. Skorpion turned her gaze towards her.

M4 held her breath for a moment, then shook her head. "I...don't think so?" she replied.

416's eyes narrowed. "Is that a question or an answer?" she asked critically.

Skorpion opened her mouth.

"Hey, 416! That's rude!" Sop II had intersected between M4 and 416. Her pale cheeks were flushed, her lips curled into a feral snarl.

Skorpion closed her mouth, opened, then closed it again. She slipped her pack's mouth between her teeth and resumed nibbling. Her cheeks swelled a little with each grinding motion, to a point.

"It's okay, Sop II." M4 placed her hand on Sop II's shoulder. She then looked 416 hard in the eye. "It's an answer. No, I don't think Hunter has our encryption key."

416 folded her arms, barely hiding her contempt behind her chilly expression. "Oh? Is that so?"

"Is so!" Sop II interrupted. She tore her communicator from her strap. "AR-15 told me to tinker with the switch." She pointed at the switch. "Squeeze this hard the first time to prime it! Squeeze it again, then…" Skorpion winced, Sop II's had emitted a sharp cry. "BAM!" She then threw her arms wide and flapped them vigorously. "Big signal!"

416 lightly touched her temple and shook her head. "AR-15 must be mad to entrust this Kriegshund with such delicate work," she muttered.

M4 stepped forward, putting herself between 416 from Sop II. Staring 416 in her eyes, she started, "Sop II has always been handy with machinery and electronics. I firmly believe the modifications are good, especially with AR-15 providing instructions."

"You think I did a good job?" Sop II exclaimed. Giddy little puppy-like hops. "You like my work?"

M4 planted her palm on top Sop II's head and gave her a rub. Sop II emitted a soft whine as she swayed along. M4 smiled warmly, briefly, before turning her gaze towards 416. Her eyes hardened. "Yes, I think you did a good job, Sop II," she replied firmly.

Sop II wore a happy smile.

"Hunter seized the communicator," the throat rumbled, "which AR-15 primed, to contact you. By doing so, she revealed her position..." The false finger pointed at the blinking waypoint on the Tactical Map. "...here. Beta One, the City Hall." False eyes fell on M4. "Does this correlate with her instructions on where to meet her?"

M4 shook her head, "No, she did not provide a meeting venue."

"Meaning, Hunter detected that signal," said 416, while looking towards M4, "and she expected M4 to meet her at the signal source."

"Reeks of a trap," SVD, leaning towards the Tactical Map, uttered suddenly. "A plaza in front of City Hall, ringed by prefabs, yet no red blips, none at all? She's planning to spring the same ambush as in Delta Three."

"When did she contact you, M4?"

M4 blinked, then looked aside. "I think...eleven-forty-five?"

"When the siege was underway." Sigh exhaled. "She thought her victory assured and attempted to pressure M4 into giving herself up in exchange for both AR-15's and our safety."

"You think so too, Kommandir?" SVD, eyes still fixed onto the Tactical Map, straightened herself and rubbed her chin. She nodded conclusively. "Da, if Hunter is as diligent as I, she too would conclude M4's will too weak to endure the two blows."

"The two blows. You meant Delta Three and the Base Camp."

SVD nodded again. "Da, Kommandir."

"Are you calling M4 a coward?" Sop II pumped her fists like a pugilist.

"Isn't she?" 416 folded her arms, cocked her head and sneered.

Fists clenched. Diaphragms strained, throat slightly clenched, holding back the tempest. "416."

416 blinked. Trepidation crept in her softened gaze.

"Your criticisms and insults are not helpful. Settle your grievances with M4 after the operation."

Skorpion thrust her fist into the air and cried her reprimand, "No fighting in the war room!"

416, twitching, shot an irritated glare at M4. Her lips trembled. "Yes, Commander," she replied, with a compliant bow.

"M4, contact Hunter."

M4 blinked. "Commander?"

"Hunter demanded your surrender when she had the advantage. Her fortunes had reversed since then. She may have relocated herself and her hostage after the siege's end."

M4 nodded as she drew her communicator. "I understand. I'm calling her now."

Sop II drew close to her. She regarded the device with a predatory gaze.

No red blips on the Tactical Map. No blockades, no concentration of forces. 416 had turned her attention away from her rival and towards the holographic projection.

"Can dormant dummies see or hear anything? Receive or transmit any signals?"

416 blinked, then met the false eyes. She blinked again then shook her head. "Nein, Commander. All dormant dummies are put in standby mode. Only the essential functions are powered. They can only receive activation signals."

"You are thinking Hunter's setting another trap?"

Blinked. Skorpion, still seated, tilted her head.

SVD rolled her eyes. "What a silly question you are asking." She directed her silver gaze towards Beta One. "A crippled deer bawling in a clearing surrounded by trees and not a single okhotnik in sight. What else could this be?"

Skorpion's head rested on her other shoulder. "But don't you think this is _too_ obvious a trap?" Her torso swayed left, her head followed its direction. "I mean, Hunter knows we are coming, right?" Right sway, right head-tilt. "She knows we already expected a trap, right?"

SVD opened her mouth, then closed them again. Holding her chin, she looked aside towards the map.

"Maybe the Sangvis wiped themselves out, just like earlier?" Skorpion added.

"Neither Hunter nor AR-15 picked up the call."

Blinked. M4 clasped her communicator to her strap.

'Wiped themselves out'. Vespids and Rippers shot at the Guards, the Guards retaliated in kind. Jaegers crushed by shields. They turned on each other as soon as the Jaegers loosed a volley upon Sop II.

"Something on my face?" Sop II inquired, head slightly cocked.

"They turned on each other the moment you were fired upon."

Sop II showed her palms and waved them about. "I didn't do anything." She paused, then shook her palms more vigorously. "Other than 'boom boom' and 'bang bang bang', I didn't do anything!"

"I don't think it's AR-15 either," M4 started. "She's not an e-war unit, none of us are."

"416…" G11 stirred. She flipped around, revealing her slovenly visage. "Do you think…?"

"Nein," 416 replied flatly.

"You know an e-war unit, Sarge?" Skorpion spoke out. She was leaning forward, her crumpled ration pack hanging below her knee, trying to catch 416's eyes.

416 tch'ed aside. "Ja, but I've never...huh..." She looked aside and held her chin. A moment later, she shook her head and answered, "Nein. If she could do it, she would have already done it during those times..."

False eyes fell on Washington. Lips frowning, brow furrowed, his once-sweeping gaze fixed onto 416 but he looked to be staring through her.

"...Commander Washington?"

"No," he spoke suddenly. "I have never seen or heard of any e-war T-Doll capable of a battalion-wide hack." A brief pause. His dark eyes flitted for a moment. "Not under Grifon's employ at least. None that I know of. Whoever did this, it isn't one of ours."

"No e-war unit could do it."

Dusty breeze subsided, sunlight dimmed. 416 frowned. Her emerald gaze pierced through the azure projection towards the tent's flap.

"To turn the Sangvis units on each other, the e-war doll will need to access their command network, hack into their neural clouds and scramble their IFF signals. The computing power required means that it would be difficult to perform it on a small squad of Sangvis dolls, let alone an entire battalion of them."

G11 tucked her left arm under her and precariously raised herself. Skorpion stood up slightly and knitted her brow.

"However, the Sangvis forces turned on each other en-masse, almost simultaneously. No e-war doll to date has the computing power required to achieve this. Not to mention intruding into the Sangvis command net in the first place? Nobody has even cracked their encryption algorithm yet, let alone figure out their command protocols."

"Oi, David!" Skorpion greeted aloud. She was wearing an impish grin. "Were you waiting outside the entire time?"

"Of course not." David, leaning lightly against the support pole, chuckled. He raised his fingertips to his forehead and flicked his bangs. "I was just passing by," he said with a smile.

"Woah..." G11 shuddered. "He's even creepier than usual."

"Your timing is too perfect, though," Skorpion pointed out. She folded her arms and cocked her head over her right shoulder. "I mean, you came in right after we started talking about the Sangvis fighting each other."

"I-It's true!" David's smile wavered. "I-I was just passing by!" He looked away for a moment. There was a glimpse of fading sparkle in those dark eyes.

416 sighed. There was a certain irritableness in her exhalation.

"...416?"

416, her brows still knitted, turned her gaze towards the false eyes. She sighed, half irritated and half weary, and replied. "He accosted G11 twice. Once in Hevhj, and again last night."

Skorpion had left her seat. Joined by Tiss and Sop II, all grinning childishly, she walked up to David and heckled him.

"He sought to look into G11's neural cloud."

"I heard that!" David exclaimed. His cheeks were reddening, as he slowly retreated from the swaying T-Dolls. "I thought I could, you know, fix her narcolepsy." Flagging confidence, rising desperation in his tone.

416 sighed again and grumbled aloud, "Not even Deele can do it, and he's the best technician we have."

"Well, that's the problem…" Skorpion, Tiss and Sop II had started circling him. Fidgeting, David looked away. "... I-isn't it? He's a mechanic. Mechanics d-don't know all that much about software!"

416 trembled agitatedly. Her twitching fingers curled. "Deele is a _technician_!" she insisted.

"David, you are really twitchy," Skorpion commented as she traipsed closer towards the trembling auxiliary guardsman.

"Twitchy, twitchy," Tiss uttered in a teasing, sing-song manner.

"S-shut it!" David snapped. The sun lit his back.

"Sop II!" Sop II closed her mouth. M4, frowning, folded her arms. "Don't trouble him. Come back!"

Sop II sulkily slinked away.

"Is what he said true?"

416 blinked, then looked aside and grasped her chin. A twitch over her left eye. "Maybe, but it doesn't explain…" she mumbled.

"I'll have you know I was in the Signals Corps!" David cried with evident desperation, "I don't mean just handling the communications bit, I did jamming and counter-jamming...you know, electronic warfare!"

"So you are actually a hacker too?" Skorpion quipped, taken aback.

"Typing code under the midnight lamp, midnight lamp," Tiss, still swaying, said with a sing-song.

"H-how did you…" David's jaw dropped. He blinked, his jaw slowly closed. His eyes widened. He pointed at Tiss and exclaimed, "The noise in the ventilation ducts last night, that was _you_?"

"Leave David alone."

The T-Dolls skedaddled, giggling amongst themselves. Skorpion circled and stopped beside the false leg while Tiss hid behind SVD, SV-98 and Nagant.

Inhaled. Exhaled.

"You were in Signals?"

David's eyes widened, then narrowed, though he could not hide the sparkles. He straightened himself and saluted. "Yes, Commander. I was in Signals."

"How is Signals conducted in this country?"

"I was actually from the DDR, so my knowledge might not apply that much to our current company..." his utterance trailed, then regained its vigour, "Sir! With T-Dolls becoming more prevalent in the battlefield, the scope of the Signals Corp's responsibility was also expanded to include electronic warfare."

"Before that role was rendered defunct," Commander Washington said suddenly. "Your role was taken over by e-war T-Dolls, wasn't it?"

David blinked and stared at Washington. He scratched his cheek, then stuttered, "W-well...Yes, Commander Washington." He straightened himself and hardened his gaze. "That is correct, although we still perform it in the absence of or in tandem with any e-war dolls in the force. Just with more limited goals in mind."

"The same with the Hellenic Armed Forces." Washington exhaled and nodded. "I believe he is correct about the capabilities of e-war T-Dolls."

"...I see."

"Were you reading off a script?" Skorpion, having leaned aside, quipped. She was, again, smirking.

"S-Shut it!" David snapped. His posture had stiffened, his cheeks flushed.

"Skorpion, that is enough."

Skorpion stepped back. She folded her arms behind her head as she turned around to return to her seat. Her cheeks were puffed, though they did not redden. "Yes, Cetin." She hummed something puerile as she sank on the metal chair.

"You too, Tiss."

Tiss stopped grinning and disappeared behind her chosen crowd. She then emerged to peek at David, then hid again a second later. SVD glanced at her disapprovingly before returning her attention to the Tactical Map. Nagant, frowning, elbowed Tiss on her behalf.

416 continued to glare at David. He met her gaze, shuddered and quickly broke eye contact.

"David." He jumped slightly. "Can this hack be performed against us?"

He stared blankly, blinked, widened his eyes, narrowed them, then uttered, "Ahem. Let me think…" He furrowed his brow and mumbled. "Yes. Yes. I think whoever did this will have an easier time hacking IOP dolls, using the same process. I mean...there are already cracker software for the Zenner network on the black market."

The command tent fell abruptly silent. "How do you know this?" 416 asked, suddenly, sceptically, agitatedly. It appeared as though her hair was standing.

"U-uh…" He blinked, "...I...I wouldn't. Anyway! You shouldn't worry too much about the Zenner!" He shifted his gaze away from her piercing gaze. "IOP patches out vulnerabilities in the Zenner network weekly. Sometimes twice a week. It's just that Zenner's been around for almost a decade now, so people had the time to study it."

"And how did you know if these software work?" 416 inquired insistently. Her shoulders had stiffened.

"Well…" David scratched his chin. "I tried out one of them a few days ago...took over FNC's dummy while it was still connected to her…"

"Mary!" Washington half-shouted, aghast. FNC, nibbling on her chocolate, looking thoroughly unperturbed, replied, "He gave me three packets of Kit-Kats."

"I can't maintain control for more than five seconds before the in-built security system booted me out of the network, but considering what happened to the Sangvis…"

"Then the culprit can easily do unto us what he or she did unto Hunter." Sigh exhaled. "What is your solution to this predicament? Can you protect our dolls from such an attack?"

"Unless you are willing to let me run a botnet farm with a hundred mainframe dolls…" David shook his head, "No. None of our equipment has the computational capability to counter such a hack."

"Your suggestion?"

David exhaled in relief. "Turn off the Zenner Network," he answered. "But that means no dummies, and all communications will have to be done via more traditional means. Like radio."

No dummies.

FMG-9's corpse laid buried under the rubble and the falling dust.

AR-15 waited in a dark room, constrained and helpless. Hunter stared at the communicator, her trigger finger looming over her pistol.

M4, expression lit by an azure glow. Hoping yet not daring to hope.

Inhaled. Exhaled.

David awaited a response.

"Can you get us that radio?"

He nodded frantically. "I can set up a radio network."

"Four echelons. How long will that take?"

"With what we have and connecting to the auxiliary radio network…" David lifted his hand, fingers spread. He gradually folded them. "Thirty minutes. I can do it in thirty minutes."

"Get it done."

David saluted and hurried out of the tent.

"Our objectives are to locate Hunter and AR-15, eliminate the ringleader and rescue the hostage." False eyes fell on Beta One, blinking on the Tactical Map. "I am making the assumption there is an unknown third party of dubious motivation and unknown capability operating in this subsector. You will turn off your Zenner network and use David's radio for communication."

"Commander," 416 inquired. Her calmness belied her veiled concern. "Without the Zenner network, we will not be able to use our dummies."

FMG-9 buried under the rubble and falling dust. Ingram connected to whirring machines, still as a corpse.

The pulse had quickened, the heart had sunk.

"I understand. However, AR-15 may be short of time, and this is our best chance to end Hunter's threat and dominion over the subsector."

"What should we do if we encounter this 'third party'?

"Evade if at all possible."

Sop II smiled blankly. She tilted her head, mimicking Skorpion. "Commander?"

"Whoever this third party is, he or she has vested in interest in Sop II's safety." M4 blinked and glanced at Sop II. "Perhaps he or she will extend the same courtesy to M4 and AR-15."

"You believe this 'third party' to be an ally?" Washington remarked.

The head shook. "I am uncertain. I only know he or she has a vested interest in the wellbeing of Sop II and, perhaps, M4 and AR-15. I will not ascribe deeds to allegiances until I can ascertain motives."

Clearing north of Beta One, designated Beta Three. Raised the false finger, pointed at it, as close to an L-block's tip as possible.

False eyes met Washington's gaze. "Washington, I need Buzzard 2."

Washington smiled. "So, that fourth echelon radio is for us?"

"Yes."

"At your disposal." He bowed. "I expect you planned on taking the circuitous route?"

"Yes." The head nodded. "I need Siskin 2 to transport Team HK416 and Team SVD to Beta Three. Approach via the East District."

Picked up the Command Tablet, tapped on the screen.

SVD blinked. Her expression was severe. "Team SVD will consist of SVD, SV-98, Nagant, FNC and Papasha."

416 was calm, though there was a slight furrow on her brow. "Team HK416, 416, Tiss, MG5, Sten and MP40."

"Time for my important mission debut?"

Nagant elbowed Tiss again. Tiss snickered in response.

416's frown deepened. "I will not be taking G11?"

G11 raised herself slightly out of her sleeping bag. She was groggy, barely attentive.

"No. We cannot afford any delays. G11 will slow you down."

416 sighed but nodded in agreement. "Ja, Commander. I understand."

A twitch upon her brow. G11 had discretely pumped her fist before falling back into her sleeping bag.

"Once you have landed, you will follow this path towards Beta One." The false finger pointed at Beta Three, then traced a line along the L-blocks. Near continuous, interrupted by side-roads. "Travel inside the prefabs. Team SVD will go first. SVD."

The sniper stood in attention. "Da, Kommandir?"

"You, Nagant and SV-98 will scout ahead, watch for Sangvis lookouts. I believe you know where to look?"

SVD glanced at the map and nodded. "Da." She smirked, "Who do you think I am?"

More taps on the Command Tablet.

"FNC and Papasha will remain behind no further than twenty meters. Cover your rear. Retreat towards them should you be engaged by the enemy, then hold position until Team HK416 reinforces you. Papasha."

Papasha jumped slightly. She blinked and stuttered, "K-Kommandir?"

"Prep your demolition charges, plant them in the prefabs. You will collapse them to cover the retreat, if necessary."

She nodded. "Ura!" She thrust her fist upwards.

"Hey, Papasha." Skorpion thrust her fist towards the roof. "More spirit!"

"URAAAAA!" Papasha pumped her fist with increased vigour.

"Prepare more demolition charges for Team HK416. They may be needed to create alternative entrances."

False eyes fell on SVD. "If you detect any lookouts, withdraw and look for an alternate path in the vicinity. If none can be found, contact me, and I will find us another way. If all is clear…" Sight shifted towards 416, "Team HK416 will advance to the next prefab or cover and provide overwatch. Then you will move ahead of them. Repeat this until you reach the objective."

"Hey, Cetin!" Skorpion raised her hand. "Why not send me instead of MP40?"

"Now is not the moment of vengeance, Skorpion."

"No, I mean, Sarge is going to fight Hunter, right?" she pointed out. "I think I'm a better fit than MP40 for this job."

"Are you questioning the Kommandant's orders?" MP40 asked sternly.

"Well, who did you think had to keep up with Ingram the past year?" Skorpion retorted. "Can you keep up with her?"

MP40 pursed her lips and frowned.

Tapped on the Command Tablet. "Fine. Skorpion, you take MP40's place."

She raised her arms in celebration.

Another tap on the Command Tablet. Confirmed the Echelon compositions.

False eyes turned towards the Tactical Map. "Once you arrive, reconnoitre the building. Look for a side entrance." False finger landed on the park east of Beta One. "Be doubly vigilant here. After you have located the side entrance, contact me."

M4 stared at the map with furrowed brows.

"M4."

She blinked.

"Once the side entrance is located and secured, you board Siskin 1 with Sop II, M14 and MG4. Disembark at the West Plaza. Alone. Make yourself visible."

"Commander!" Sop II cried. A snarl. Alarmed, accusing. "You are putting M4 in danger!"

"Hunter will not attack M4 right away. She will think M4 is surrendering to her." Attention returned to M4. "You will support this notion by raising your hands as you approach Beta One. Siskin 1 will return airborne after you disembark. Go inside, determine the location of Hunter and AR-15, then signal Team HK416 to breach and engage Hunter. Team SVD."

"Da, Kommandir."

"Move to the plaza once the attack begins. Take out any Sangvis you can find. Prioritise on the Jaegers. Siskin 1 will provide support. Once the plaza is clear…"

M4 bit her lower lip.

"M4 and Team HK416 will drive Hunter there. If Team SVD cannot take control of the plaza in time, then…"

"You want us to draw Hunter into the prefabs between Beta One and Beta Three and detonate the charges?" M4 asked, with clarity in her eyes.

"That or draw her to the East Park. Evade and evacuate, then suppress Hunter. Keep her there. Skorpion?"

"Yes?" Skorpion stood in attention.

"Light that park ablaze."

She grinned enthusiastically. She took a step forward and showed the back of her hand. "Good luck, remember?" she reminded.

We bumped our forearms together. The present company looked upon us, stupefied.

"I was told this brings good fortune."

**1430**

"M4 to Command."

Five minutes passed. M4, hands raised, remained still before the ascending steps.

"No response from Hunter. Your orders?"

Rustling leaves, sunlight glinting off teeth-like shards.

"Command to Siskin 1. What did you see?"

The dust shifted, enveloping M4's ankles. Leaves and twigs lifted, higher and higher, drawn into the approaching vortex.

"We've made three rounds," Nicholai reported. "Dead Jaegers on the roof. M14 reported having seen nothing behind the windows."

416 and her team by the back door, their weapons readied. Skorpion glanced at the fallen Guard by the mouldy bench, its coolant soaking the dried dust and serpentine foliage.

M4, still below the concrete steps, stared at the gaping jaws lined with crystalline shards, awaiting instructions.

"Command to M4. Enter the building, stop in the lobby."

"M4 copy. Out."

Petrified legs uprooted from the greying pavement. Dust and debris unsettled by feet firmly planted on the bottommost step. Black hair swayed, rifle bobbed and shuddered. A Jaeger splayed on the steps, facing the sky. Its coolant had exploded out of its ruptured back and snapped spine.

The feed darkened, then lit up again.

Dim lights danced upon graphite panels and tattered banners. Shards, hanging precariously overhead like Damocles blades, clinked against each other, rattled by the silent breeze.

"M4 to Command," the headset sounded again. "I have arrived in the lobby. It is vacant."

Vacant, save for the Sangvis strewn all over the pavement.

"Command to M4. Check the bodies."

With her rifle lifted, she crept towards the closest body. Her eyes swept her surroundings, her painstaking steps avoiding any puddles or metallic debris painstakingly. She reached the corpse and found it to be that of a Vespid's, its pale visage half-hidden behind its dented visor. The skin on its chest had burned and boiled away, revealing the punctured carapace underneath, with its edge charred and melted through.

"M4 to Command," M4 started. "It's dead. Killed with energy weapons." She stood up and looked about, towards a Guard buried under its shield, towards the two Rippers entangled with each other. She then looked up towards the mezzanine.

Her torso rose and fell. She touched her headset. Her voice cracked, "The lobby smells like burned plastic and metal, and I'm not detecting any movement. I think…" She paused. Her torso rose and fell. "...I think they are all dead."

"Command to M4. Understood. Hold your position."

Sigh exhaled. Team HK416 still awaited instructions.

"I'm having Team HK416 join you. Command to Team HK416."

"Yes, Commander?" 416 replied coolly.

"Open the door. Quietly."

416 lifted her fingers off her earpiece and tapped on Sten's shoulder. A brief conversation, punctuated with nods. Sten moved behind 416, her motion like the folding of a pamphlet's page. 416 then spoke to Skorpion, who nodded in affirmation and placed her palm on the door handle.

416 hovered her gun over Skorpion's knuckles. One second...two...three...Skorpion turned the handle, and 416 slid her rifle-barrel through the gap.

Four seconds passed, 416 pressed her shoulder against the door, her barrel-tip nibbled by the leaking dark. Six seconds, Skorpion, a weapon holstered, bit down on her incendiary's pin. Eight seconds, door half-ajar, the abyss swallowed 416's gun-barrel. Ten seconds, she shoved her door open and stared into the void. Eleven seconds, twelve, she lowered her swaying rifle and pressed on her earpiece.

"Team HK416 to Command. The corridor is empty."

"Command to Team HK416. Cut through the building towards the lobby and link up with M4. Watch your six, examine every room. M4 reported all Sangvis dead, but this could be a ruse."

Darkness engulfed the feed as it followed Team HK416 into the corridor. Illumination flared, then dimmed as the micro-drone's optics compensated for the sudden brightness. Flashlights crept, swayed, swung up and down, alert for hidden threats.

No hidden foes hanging on the ceiling, no wicked devices waiting to be sprung.

Empty corridor, stretching along.

Swaying flashlights stopped. Two doors ahead, one left, one right.

416 and Skorpion took the right door, Tiss and Sten took the left, MG5 on overwatch. The submachine-gunners gripped the handles, the riflewomen stacked behind them with their weapons at the ready.

One…

Two…

Three…

They breached.

416 and Skorpion transitioned into their room smoothly. "Team HK416 to Command," 416 said calmly. Even-toned, bereft of panic and anxiety.

One Guard sprawled mere inches away from the door. Its torso's carapace and skin had melted, its shield scorched and dented. Another Guard, half-visible behind the door, slumped on its shoulder. It had lost its shield-arm.

"Two Guards by the door, several Rippers, all KIA. No hostiles in sight."

Burned, shattered remains of cubicle walls and furniture. Some of their fragments still alight, their embers gnawing away at the carpet below. Others quenched by coolant, leaking and pouring from the Rippers sprawled and splayed among the carnage.

"...What about Tiss and Sten?"

"Their door is stuck."

Door further down the room, half-concealed behind the layers of metal and plastic partitions. One half hanging on its hinges, another shattered and scattered along the carpeted floor.

"Command to Team HK416. See that door directly in front of you?"

416's light cast a long, grasping shadow onto the door. "Ja, Commander."

"Examine it."

416 walked over the Guard while Skorpion split from her. The submachine-gunner leapt over an obstacle on her way to the left wall. 416's flashlight swerved left and right as she crept amongst the dust and debris.

A Ripper laid amongst the ruins of a partition. Its torso, ran through by a twisted metal stake, still smoked. Its killer, another Ripper, sprawled face-down on the narrow corridor. Its skull was missing, punctured and melted through. Tangled molten wires and burned plastic spilt out of the mortal wound.

Another cubicle, another Ripper body. Sprawled, slumped, twisted and broken. Beheaded, bisected, dismembered. Bodies lying atop toppled chairs, broke through the desk, pierced by innumerable splinters and stationery.

The flashlight turned left, illuminating the hanging, creaking door ahead. Its pieces were scattered all over, emanating from a deceased Guard, lying flat on its shield.

The light crawled towards the fallen Sangvis, illuminating the hole in its spine. Gloved hands entered the luminant radii. 416 snapped her gun towards Skorpion, who shot up with her hands up. 416 shrugged her shoulders and aimed at the wall behind the shattered door, while Skorpion approached the Guard again.

Skorpion tugged and tugged, yet the Guard wouldn't budge. She signalled at 416, who, still training her rifle at the door, squatted down and grabbed it by its other wrist. Another tug, two, the Guard fell off its shield. With great exertion, they dragged the Guard away from the door.

Skorpion then went for its shield and found it pristine. 416 gave her a tap, jolting her from her daze. She grabbed the slab, then winced as it scruffed the carpet, exposing the cement beneath. It must have emitted an uncomfortable, ear-piercing scrape.

After clearing the obstruction, 416 took her position to the left of the door. Still taking aim, she leaned slightly to her right, then swiftly swept to the right side of the door. She held for a moment before crossing the threshold, with Skorpion close behind.

"Team HK416 to Command."

The corridor was strewn with fallen Ripper bodies, each bearing mortal wounds. The walls themselves were pitted and scorched.

"More bodies. Checking their condition."

The two slowly made their way towards Tiss, Sten and MG5's position, carefully stepping over the corpses.

One Ripper slumped against the pitted wall; itself shredded, unrecognisable components oozed from its belly and chest. Another, bisected, had its fingers dug into the carpet, its gun aimed at its adversary ahead. Its hindquarters trailed behind it, dragged along by taut wires drenched in coolant.

Said adversary was a barely discernible pile of twisted metal and polymer, melted and fused by concentrated fire.

416 and Skorpion passed the hallway leading to the lobby and found fallen Guards blocking the path. Molten spine, missing skulls, perforated carapaces. They all laid atop their shields, drenched in their coolant. It seemed they were all shot in the back by their Ripper compatriots, slaughtered before they could respond.

Shields facing the corner, their rear teeming with Rippers. Guards in front of the office doors, Tiss and Sten blocked off from their room.

Hunter must have anticipated an infiltration from the rear entrance. She had the office doors obstructed, to channel the echelons towards the phalanx. Upon their arrival, she would raise the gates and flood the corridor in Rippers, to crush the infiltrators between a crashing tide of particle bolts and a bulwark of steel.

Instead, her executors laid in ruins, destroyed by their own hands.

This carnage was beheld previously, outside, when the echelons trekked their way here. Pitted walls, rusting vehicles scorched by energy weapons fire, cracked streets strewn with corpses and splattered in coolant.

The 'third party' had struck here as well.

Could Hunter too have fallen to this unknown meddler?

"Command to Team SVD, reposition at the West Plaza. Command to Team HK416 and M4, rally at the elevator."

**1520**

Skorpion, 416 and MG5 by the left door, Sten, Tiss and M4 by the right. After a count of three, they ingressed into their respective rooms. Flashlights swept the cubicles, spreading out to three directions. Lights trickled through tattered blinds in 416's office, casting shuddering stripes onto the partitions and wall.

416 swept her gun about, lighting up the cubicles and their occupants: Rippers, Vespids, Guards, all in various states of ruin. Once she reached the windows, she tore down its blinds. The flooding sunlight overwhelmed the feed.

416's silhouette resurfaced as the incandescence dimmed. She raised her gun towards the window, held the flashlight on its barrel and clicked it thrice.

SVD shook Nagant's shoulder, shaking her out of her stupor. Nagant blinked once, twice, then shot up to her feet, only for SVD to drag her down again. SVD tapped her knuckles against Nagant's head. Nagant, pouting, raised her flashlight just over her cover and clicked it thrice.

416, seeing the reply flashes, turned her weapon away from the window and resumed her sweep.

"Deadline's closing, Yilmaz," announced Washington, from behind the steel chair. "Might want to speed things up."

The watch read '15:20'.

M4 and Team HK416 linked up in the corridor.

"Team HK416 to Command. West outer office clear."

"M4 to Command. West inner office clear."

"Command to All. Acknowledged. Out."

416 and M4 removed their fingers from their earpiece and headset respectively, then nodded at the T-Dolls behind them. They filed northwards.

"Do you truly believe there is a threat?" Washington inquired. "We've gone through three floors and only found destroyed Sangvis dolls."

"I made these assumptions in Delta Three, Washington."

Washington held his breath.

The T-Dolls stacked by the doors into the northern rooms. Skorpion, 416 and MG5 by the left door, Sten, Tiss and M4 by the right. After a count of three, they ingressed into their respective rooms. Flashlights spread out to three directions.

"FMG-9, Ingram, FAL, Sudaev, Sturmgewehr, BAR, they all paid the price for my mistake. I will not repeat it here, especially knowing what threats lurk within the AO."

Washington exhaled and breathed again. "Speculated threats, Yilmaz. You heard David. E-war of this nature is beyond the capabilities of T-Dolls. Whoever this 'third party' is, it's most likely a task force specialised for this task, and the equipment they used would be inside a vehicle or several—vehicles with easily identified antennas. A convoy like that would not be easy to hide. We didn't see anything like that in or around the AO."

Jammed roads concentrated to the south. Cars, buses, trucks, mostly cars. Barriers breached, curbs drove over...several crashes. Not nearly as many as expected. Late, hasty evacuation.

Ran out of time.

"Perhaps the vehicles are camouflaged off-road…"

Dust-shrouded East District, orderly West District. L-blocks, lack of a basement. Large yards.

"...or hidden within the ruins. They may have wanted M4, Sop II and AR-15 to gather in one place. Capture them all in one fell swoop."

"I feel this is unlikely." Washington sipped on his drink. "If this is their intention, they would have sprung that trap an hour ago. The lobby was the optimal spot for it, and they had plenty of time to set it up. That signal M4 described wasn't exactly subtle."

"Then this is Hunter's ruse."

"That sounds too big of a gamble for Hunter," Washington suggested. "Sacrificing a few minions here and there to set up ambushes is one thing, but her entire army?"

"Then she must be confident she could triumph on her own."

Washington frowned, though he said not a word.

"You did see the records, did you not?"

"We all did, Yilmaz. We likely saw the same footage and feeds. Regardless, a gamble like this?"

He sipped on his drink.

Skorpion leaned forward and poked at a Guard. She backed away abruptly; the Guard had toppled onto the cubicle partition in front of it, then crashed into the desk.

"Doesn't sound like her. Far as I see it, she's pragmatic. Shrewd. She doesn't put herself directly in harm's way. Lets her minions do most of the heavy lifting, while she sticks to cover and utilises hit-and-run tactics. Sacrificing her entire army doesn't look like her MO."

M4 advanced towards the door further ahead, shining her flashlight into the cubicles she passed. More Sangvis, all in various states of ruin.

"She still almost annihilated my echelons despite the heavy losses she incurred and costly sacrifices she made."

416 and MG5 continued their slow crawl towards the next door. Skorpion, realising she had lagged, left the toppled Guard and quickened her pace.

"I think you overestimated Hunter," Washington replied. He supped on his thermos cap. "And I think you are selling yourself short. You did bounce back from the setback in Delta Three…"

"At the cost of FMG-9, Ingram, Sudaev, Sturmgewehr, FAL and BAR."

416 turned to scowl at Skorpion. Skorpion stopped, pouted, and turned her flashlight towards the cubicles flanking her.

"My plan carried a tremendous amount of risk."

416, MG5 and Skorpion gathered by the door. At a count of three, they egressed out of the office and linked up with M4, Sten and Tiss.

"Team HK416 to Command. North outer office clear."

"M4 to Command. North inner office clear."

"Command to All. Acknowledged. Out."

The T-Dolls filed towards the eastern offices. They gathered by the doors, then, at a count of three, ingressed into their respective rooms. Flashlights swept the cubicles, spreading out to three directions.

"These are excellent T-Dolls, Washington. They made the plan work. Yet, Hunter is a wily foe. She almost got us twice."

Washington took another sip, then fastened the cap onto the thermos.

"I won't abandon caution at the vice director's convenience."

Washington exhaled. "It seems you are harbouring some misconceptions about Helianthus. Helianthus didn't give us a deadline out of malice. She was watching the UAV feeds the entire time. She witnessed the Sangvis infighting in both Novum Sambir and around our Base Camp. She is confident the situation had been rectified."

Firm tone, insincere glint absent in his eyes. He wasn't being sycophantic.

Infernal beeping from the holo-communicator. The watch read '15:35'.

"I'll talk to her," Washington offered. "See if I can get us an extension."

Azure glow intensified, the holo-communicator's light joined with the Tactical Map's. Rustling to the right. David, by the tent's wall, looked towards the source of the glow. "Commander Washington," greeted Helianthus, unaware of his attention. David looked away, towards his hastily assembled radio consoles. "I trust Commander Yilmaz has completed his sweep?"

"M4 to Command. East inner office clear," the headset sounded. The T-Dolls had gathered in front of the stairwell, by the dead elevators. "Team HK416 to Command. Alles klar. We are progressing to the fifth floor."

"Command to All. Acknowledged. Proceed."

"We still have one floor left," Washington's tone was even, yet diplomatic. Straight posture, hands clasped behind his back, footing secured. He wasn't grovelling. "We request for a thirty minutes extension," he asked firmly.

Helianthus, frowning sternly, opened her mouth.

"Commander!" 416 exclaimed in the headset. Her tone was urgent. She had ran up the stairs and turned a corner. "M4 has taken off!"

M4 ran along the fifth floor's corridor, then abruptly stopped by a corner. She shone her flashlight at the wall to her right. More bullet holes, coolant smearing the floor and wall. She swung her rifle to her left. A body sprawled on its back, on a pool of false blood.

"Command to M4. Report."

Pale green eyes, wide with shock. Bullet holes punctured its skull, tore through its right cheekbone. M4 swept her flashlight along the length of the still body. More bullet wounds, on the chest, sides, arms...Two handguns, one still clutched tightly in its grip.

Hunter.

"This was AR-15's work," M4 breathed.

The light shone at the back of Hunter's right knee, which was bent at unnatural angles. The leg seemed twisted.

"416 to Command! We've caught up!"

416 grasped M4's right shoulder and spun her around. Before she could say a word, M4 swung her rifle up, smacking 416's arm aside.

Smear on the wall, crimson drops on the floor leading several paces west.

M4 ran again.

"Command to Team HK416. Follow, but don't apprehend."

M4 turned right and crashed through the door. She spun to her left, swinging her weapon up, and stared into a gun-barrel.

She sighed and lowered her gun. The assailant followed suit.

The assailant recoiled, M4 had caught her in an embrace. Team HK416 burst through the door and aimed their weapons at them. 416 shouted. M4 released her quarry, turned around, and spoke to other present Dolls. They slowly lowered their guns.

M4 pressed on her headset. "M4 to All. We found her. We found AR-15."


End file.
